Ysilla and the Wall
by Illaia
Summary: Ysilla Royce is the youngest and only daughter of Lord Yohn Royce and younger sister to Ser Waymar Royce. This is her small adventure as she accompanies her brother to the Wall as his squire. The story is set a little before the series begins and as it progresses, will catch up to the first book/season, hopefully. Enjoy and let me know what you think! Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

"I look silly," Ysilla Royce said as her older brother, Waymar, flattened the leather hat on her head.

"You look quite handsome," her brother laughed. In fact, she was more handsome than he with fine brown hair and large blue-grey eyes. She stood a foot shorter than Waymar, but it never discouraged her from participating in playful duels or wrestling with him in the mud, much to her father's dismay. She shook her head, allowing the hat to slide off her smooth hair. It had been cut short for the trip, so short that if she didn't speak, she would pass for Waymar's younger brother. "What's the name again?"

"You're my squire Seth," he said as their horses trod along the Kingsroad towards Winterfell. He moved closer to his father, Sir Yohn Royce, a hulking man with grey hair and bushy eyebrows. "I'm not sure this is a good idea," he said in a low whisper. "The Wall is no place for a girl."

"It's much safer than home for now," his father said gravely. "There are whisperings of trouble in King's Landing. Jon Arryn was most insistent that I keep my family safe from what's to come."

"But how is she going to fare on the Wall? She's a girl!" Wymar said loudly. "And I really hoped that this would be my moment. I would be taking the Black and bringing honor to the House of Royce, not babysitting my little sister on the Wall."

"You're not giving your sister enough credit, son," his father replied, glancing over his shoulder at the girl riding behind them. "She won't be any trouble at all."

"Seth is a dumb name," she moaned. "Why can't I be named Robert or Gideon?"

"Because you're my squire," her brother grumbled. "And when we get to Winterfell, I don't want you to cause any trouble."

"I won't cause any trouble," she muttered under her breath as she rode behind them. She watched as her brother rode side by side with their father, dressed in the finest clothes, whereas she wore itchy trousers that barely fit her small frame. She wondered how stupid the men of the Nightswatch must be if they were fooled into believing she was a boy.

As they approached Winterfell, her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and her mouth became dry. She turned her head towards her father, who gave her a quick reassuring nod before galloping ahead towards the gates.

"Well, what are you doing?" Waymar asked as he followed their father's lead.

Ysilla drew in a breath and followed slowly, cautiously. Her horse could move faster, she knew. She had never had a problem racing her brother through the fields but that was when she was still Ysilla Royce of Runestone. She must now ride behind her brother and father and tend to their needs as Seth, the squire.

She caught up to them at the gates and dismounted, taking their horses towards the stables where a large man lumbered out with a half-smile. Her eyes reached the blank face of the stableboy as he said, "Hodor!"

With her best male voice, which sounded like a low female voice, she lowered her eyes and said, "The horses need to be fed and stabled for the night, please." She bit her lip quickly. _Do I say please? _She shook her head and walked away, almost crashing into a boy with dark hair and a long face.

"I beg your pardon, milord," she said, looking into the green eyes of a Stark.

He took one look at her and laughed as he walked away. Did he see right through her facade? When he glanced back at her with a smile, she felt her cheeks warm all the way to her ears.

"Seth!" Waymar called to her as their father spoke to Lord Eddard Stark and Ser Rodrik Cassel, who both turned towards her suddenly with slight smirks on their lips.

Ysilla hurried towards them, tripping over her own feet and the uncomfortably oversized boots she wore. Her face turned red as she lifted her from the ground, her hands dirty from the mud. Her ears turned pinker when she saw Lord Stark's sons laugh at her misfortune.

She recognized Robb from her brother's description, handsome with auburn hair and light eyes. She also deduced that the two younger boys, who were both giggling hysterically, were Robb's younger brothers, Brandon and Rickon. She didn't recognize the dark one that stood in the shadows behind Robb with a cocky smile.

"Seth," her father said, waving his hand to her. "This is Lord Eddard Stark and Ser Rodrik Cassel."

Ysilla curtseyed instinctively but felt foolish and quickly changed to a bow as the two men chuckled.

"She's going to have to remember that she's a boy, my lord," Lord Stark said to her father with a hand on his shoulder.

"How is she with a blade?" Ser Rodrik asked.

"I'm better with a bow," Ysilla said. "I can shoot better than Waymar."

"Not true!" Waymar said with a whine in his voice. "I let you win, all the time."

Ysilla rolled her eyes.

"If you're going to pose as a boy, you'll need to learn to fight like one, as well. No one's going to ever believe you're a boy unless you act like one." Ser Rodrik put a thick hand on Ysilla's shoulder, weighing it down. He led her towards the boys, who were practicing their archery. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," she replied in a low voice. "Milord."

He nodded and pointed at the dark boy, who shoved a bow into her hands.

"See if you can use that. And try not to break it; It's my favorite," the boy said with a wry smile.

She watched the little boy, Brandon, shoot his arrow and miss his target as the older boys laughed. Her lips flattened into a line as she stepped forward and pulled back on her bowstring, aiming her arrow, and releasing with a breath.

The dark boy stopped laughing when he saw she had hit the target on its mark.

"He's almost as good as you, Greyjoy," Robb Stark said with a laugh.

The boy snatched the bow from her hands and shoved a worn one in its stead. "Try that! He's just lucky because he had my good bow. Not everyone can have one that's as good as mine." He checked the tension of his bowstring with care. "Go on! Shoot with that one!"

Ysilla drew another arrow back on the bowstring; her eye quickly glanced over to the Greyjoy boy, who eyed her suspiciously. With a breath, she aimed her arrow and released, hitting just below her previous arrow by a hair.

"Not bad," Robb said with a slap on her back. "Bran, go on."

Brandon lowered his eyes as he aimed his arrow.

Ysilla took a step back and to the side, watching him. Her eyes quickly glanced over to Ser Rodrik, who gave her a nod and returned to her father and Lord Stark. She spent the next few hours practicing with a bow and helping Brandon aim properly as Robb Stark and the Greyjoy boy laughed while playing with their swords.

"Have you ever been in a tourney?" Brandon asked her with wide eyes.

She shook her head. "Not yet," she said in a low voice. "I've watched many tournaments, but I've never been in one."

Brandon nodded. "I want to ride in one, someday."

"I'm sure you will," she replied.

"You need to get bigger first," the dark-haired boy she met earlier said behind them.

Ysilla turned around to find the boy staring at her.

"That's Jon," Brandon said. "He's my brother."

"I had no idea Lord Stark had so many sons," Ysilla said in surprise.

"I'm his half-brother," Jon interjected before anyone else could.

Ysilla blinked at him and gave him a kind smile.

He looked as though he was ready to explain or defend himself to her, but his hostility dissipated when she didn't say a word about his parentage. He was almost taken aback from her silence.

"Are you going to join us, Snow?" the Greyjoy boy said with his cocky smile.

"Go on, Jon," Brandon encouraged. "Show Theon how it's done!"

Jon laughed. "I think I'd rather not in front of company. I don't want the House of Royce to think we aren't capable of intelligent conversation. We're not all wildings in the North."

"I'm never good at swords," Ysilla said with a frown as she watched Robb and Theon spar with their swords.

"It's almost time for supper, anyway," Brandon said, grabbing Ysilla's hand. "Mother's coming."

Looking across the yard, she saw a lovely red-haired woman glide in a light blue dress beneath a wool cloak with a fur collar. She greeted Yohn Royce and his son with a kind smile and Ysilla could see the resemblance of all of her boys in her. They all had the same dark auburn hair and the light eyes with fair skin.

Brandon pulled Ysilla along behind him as he rushed to his mother.

"What are you doing, Bran?" she asked him.

Lady Catelyn gave Ysilla a quick look and a kind, knowing smile. She sent Brandon off to clean up for supper with his brothers, her eyes giving Jon Snow a harsh glare as he followed behind. "I had no idea you had another son, my lord," she said of Ysilla.

"He's my squire," Waymar quickly interrupted with a smirk.

"Brandon's taken an interest in you," Lady Stark said to her. "I must insist you come sup with us."

Ysilla glanced at her father and Waymar, who fumed behind Lady Stark.

"Unless there is some objection from Lord Royce?" She glanced over her shoulder at Ysilla's father, who shook his head.

"See no harm in having the boy sit with us," he said.

"I'll see you to the hall, my lord," Ser Rodrik said, leading the way.

"Cat," Lord Stark pulled his wife aside. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"The question is, do _you_? Allowing that man to pose that girl as a boy!"

Ysilla's face drained of all color as she walked behind her brother. She wanted to glance back at the couple, but first instinct was to let it lie.

"Why do I need to continue this charade?" she asked of her father when they were alone in the hall.

"You know exactly why," he said in a gruff voice. "I can't have my only daughter in danger in Runestone while I escort your brother up North. I felt it best that I bring you and keep you safe this way."

She shook her head. "I'm not fooling anyone!" she said. "Lord and Lady Stark know, as does Ser Rodrik."

"Then, you need to be more discreet, my dear girl," he whispered. "I can't have you in danger. I trust the Starks and the Tullys. They're good folk and very honorable."

"What about that Greyjoy?" she asked. "I don't think he's very trustworthy."

Her father grinned widely. "I'm glad you have good sense," he said, bracing her shoulders with his gnarled hands. "He's a ward of Lord Stark from Robert's Rebellion. He's been with them for about eight years, I think."

"He's a prisoner, then…" she said in a low voice.

"He's been raised alongside the Stark boys, receiving the same tutelage from Maester Luwin just like a Stark."

"But he's not a Stark… he's a Greyjoy and will always be."

Her father sighed. "There are people outside of our house that we can trust. If they trust this Greyjoy lad, then who am I to contradict Lord Stark?"

"And what of Jon Snow?" she asked, curious about the boy's parentage.

"What of him?" her father said as if it didn't matter. "He's Lord Stark's bastard son." His voice carried as a tall auburn haired girl flounced down the hall with a dark-haired girl running after her. "My ladies," her father bowed to the two girls.

"Are you coming to sup with us?" the little dark-haired girl asked. Her face was a little dirty but Ysilla could see Eddard Stark's blood in her. She was short and young with brown hair and grey eyes.

"Arya, mind your business," the tall red-haired girl said sharply. "Please forgive my sister, my lord."

"No need, child," Yohn Royce replied with a smile. "We'll be along shortly."

The tall girl stared dreamily at Ysilla for a moment before turning with a blush on her cheeks and disappearing into the dining hall. Arya gave Ysilla a strange look before following her sister.

"I'm not fooling anyone," Ysilla whispered to her father.

"You'll have to try."

She glanced into the dining hall and caught the red-haired girl's eye. "That girl stares funny," she said to her father.

"That's good," her father encouraged her. "Maybe she thinks you're a boy."

"I can fool the dimwitted ones, but not the ones that have half a hair of intelligence," she moaned.

"Do your best," her father said, leaving her in the hall alone.

Ysilla leaned against the wall and sighed. "I'm not fooling anyone," she groaned to herself quietly.

"You'd have to lose the girlish tone in your voice," a male voice said.

Ysilla stood upright immediately with a blush in her cheeks as Jon Snow appeared. "I don't know what you mean," she said in a low voice.

He laughed at her again. "If you're going to try to look like a boy, you need to act like one and sound like one."

She opened her mouth to reply to him but quickly closed it after realizing she didn't know how to respond to his statement. "I'm not a girl," she spat at him.

He smirked at her. "You can say what you want… but you are who you are. Nothing will change that."

"Like being a bastard son?" she snapped at him.

His smile fell from his face and the muscle in his jaw clenched tightly. Before she could say an apology for her harsh words, he turned and walked away from her and the dining hall.

Ysilla stared after him, remembering his sad eyes and the disappointment in his face as he turned. She wanted to follow him and apologize, but she didn't know if that was wise. Instead, she lifted her head and strode into the dining hall where the Stark boys and Theon Greyjoy sat on one end and the Stark girls sat on the other. In the center, across from Lord and Lady Stark, her father and her brother sat.

Waymar sat closest to the tall red-haired girl, who blushed suddenly when their eyes met. "My squire, Seth," her brother introduced to the girl. "This is Sansa Stark and Arya Stark."

"Milady," Ysilla said.

Arya watched her closely with a small grin. "Sit here," she insisted, scooting over to create a space between her and Sansa.

Ysilla froze when she saw the dreamy expression on Sansa's face and the curious eyes of Arya. She took a quick breath and excused herself from the table, claiming she wanted to check on the horses.

Instead, she walked outside to find Jon Snow practicing with his sword against a straw dummy. She watched him quietly as he hacked at the body blindly. There was no grace in his movement, it was raw and angry. He stabbed and slashed relentlessly, his ragged breath releasing soft wispy clouds from between his lips.

She took a step forward, her foot crunching into the gravel.

Jon Snow spun around quickly and silently, his blade edged against her neck. His eyes enflamed as he stared at her. "I could've killed you," he said, lowering his sword.

Ysilla drew in a breath. "I… I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier."

"You didn't mean it?" he asked.

"Oh, I meant it, but I shouldn't have said it."

He snorted. "What kind of apology is that?" He sheathed his sword into its scabbard. "What kind of girl are you anyway? You're pretending to be a boy, but you still want to be seen as a girl."

"I don't want to be a boy… it's just something my father wants because it's safer to travel this way. We're going North to the Wall," she said in a low voice. "Waymar is joining the Nightswatch and my father wants me to stay there with him."

"There're no women on the Wall," Jon Snow said. "The Nightswatch is for men only."

"I know that," she bit her lip. "I... I just wanted to say I'm sorry for saying that to you earlier. That's all." She turned to walk away with a clearer conscience, but she still felt miserable.

"Do you know how to swing a sword?" he asked.

Ysilla turned around. "I know how to swing a sword," she said.

He presented her with his scabbard with a smirk. "I'd like to see that. I could use a laugh."

Ysilla returned to Jon Snow and drew his sword, dropping the tip to the ground immediately. "It's heavy," she commented.

"You won't find many light swords unless they're specially made. Most are going to be heavy and you'll need to know how to use them if you're going to pass as a boy." He used a gloved hand to lift the sword's blade up for her, but as soon as he let it go, it fell back down to the ground. "You're going to have to try."

"I _am_ trying!" she said in her regular voice, surprising him. She used both hands to lift the tip of the sword up, smiling when she managed to balance it in the air for a second before losing control and dropping it back down.

He thought for a moment and left her alone.

Ysilla lifted the sword again, this time, using all of her strength to bring it back down at an odd angle that did nothing to the straw dummy. Her arms ached and she felt tired. With a sigh, she tried to move the sword again into the air.

"Try this one," Jon Snow returned. He brought out a shorter sword that was lighter and more manageable. "It's Bran's. But I'm sure he won't mind if you practice with it."

She looked up at him. "Why are you being so nice to me? I was horrid to you."

He shrugged. "I guess I know what it's like to try to fit in where you don't belong."

She nodded at him. She understood.


	2. Chapter 2

Ysilla sat on her horse and stared back at the castle of Winterfell when she reached the Kingsroad. For a moment, as she watched the men pace on the battlements like little ants, she thought that perhaps Jon Snow was there as well, watching her as she rode North. She sighed.

"What's the matter with you?" Waymar asked as he turned back towards her.

She shook her head. "Nothing," she replied. "Nothing's the matter."

"I thought that you were having second thoughts about coming," Waymar said. "I wouldn't object if you wanted to stay in Winterfell." He turned towards his father. "She could stay here and she'd be safe."

"I want you to watch your sister," his father growled.

Ysilla pulled her cloak around her tightly as the cold winds began to blow through them. Her eyes glanced back towards the castle again.

"Come along, Ysilla," her father said.

She followed her father along the road, slowly, wishing she was able to stay in Winterfell.

She often wondered what the Wall looked like. According to the stories she heard when she was younger, it spanned forever and it was tall enough to reach the stars. Her eyes widened as she approached. "It looks like another mountain," she said to her father as they all gazed in wonder at the structure in the distance.

"It's all ice," her father told her.

"It doesn't seem so big to me," Waymar said lightly.

Ysilla glared at him. There was nothing she could say to him to convince him otherwise. "Would anyone else know?" she asked her father.

He sat stiffly on his horse and didn't answer her.

"Father," she pushed.

"I don't know," he responded. "The Mormonts are honorable… or they were once." He shook his head.

Ysilla stared at her father's worn, lined face. "They are still sworn to House Stark, are they not?"

"I'd feel better if no one knew," he said to her. "But seeing that your brother's mouth is as loose as a whore in a brothel, I have to ensure your safety in other ways."

She lowered her eyes. "Perhaps, it would have been better if I stayed in Winterfell."

"No… Although I trust the Starks with my life, I have no intention of leaving yours in their hands," he said. "Just be more careful in Castle Black. There are eyes and ears everywhere. And the merest slight may bring unwanted attention."

She nodded.

"And you!" her father said with a harsh growl to his voice. "You will make sure your sister is safe. The Watch recruits all kinds of depraved men from the bowels of the Red Keep and other dungeons of across Westeros. You make sure they keep away from her."

Waymar sat on his horse with a thin line for a smile. His grey eyes did not look at either of them. Instead, he stared at the Wall.

"Do you hear me, boy?" his father barked.

"Yes, I hear you, father." He turned his head towards them, his grey eyes narrowed. "I will do my best, but it's up to the Lord Commander to decide what I am to do once I arrive. I may be placed with the rangers or a builder."

"Or a steward," Ysilla remarked with a smirk.

"I won't be a steward. I'm of noble blood with acceptable skills with a sword and a bow. I know I'll be a ranger," he tipped his nose in the air.

Ysilla shook her head. "There's no shame in being a steward," she said.

"Stewardship is for illiterate lowborns that have no other use," her brother said.

"You won't get far with that attitude," she commented. "You're joining a brotherhood, which means you should be accepting of every other man, no matter their status or their past deeds."

Her father twisted his lips into what could have only been interpreted as a smile. It certainly wasn't a scowl or a snarl, which his face seemed to display more often these days. Beneath his grey beard, he let out a quick chuckle. "You can have that ideology, my dear girl, and it's a very considerate notion, however, the reality may not be as fanciful. You'll have to be careful of the men, now. They're not noble, honorable knights and highborns in the Watch, anymore. They are thieves and murderers and bastards."

Ysilla thought of Jon Snow. Would he someday join the Night's Watch like his uncle? She sighed as she thought that even if she were to ever meet him again, once he took the Black, he wouldn't be allowed to have a wife or father children. She shook her head. _Why am I even considering Jon Snow? Father would never allow a bastard to marry a highborn, anyway. With my luck, I'll end up marrying some old man or one that's deformed, just to keep the peace in some part of Westeros._ She sighed.

"I'll be careful," she said to her father.

"Yes, you had better watch yourself. I saw the way you were staring at that bastard son of Eddard Stark."

Ysilla frowned. She took exceptional care to remain indifferent around Jon Snow and his half-brothers and not some giggling little maiden with fantasies about knights and songs, like that half-sister of his.

As they rode closer towards the Wall, she saw her brother's expression change from nonchalant to amazed as his mouth dropped open and he had to tip his head back to see half-way up the structure.

He didn't say a word as they rode up to Castle Black and straight into the courtyard where a large man with dark eyes oversaw a handful of new recruits.

"I am Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone," her father announced to the man, who turned with a scowl on his face.

"Ser Alliser Thorne, my lord," the man said in quick reply. He eyed Waymar and Ysilla with narrowed eyes and grunted under his breath. "What brings you to the Wall?"

"I'm here to take the black," Waymar said proudly, sitting on his charger. He was already dressed for the part of ranger, even though he hadn't sworn his oath. His clothes were all black from his leather boots to his woolen pants, all the way up to the boiled leather beneath the layers of black ringmail.

"And the little rat?" Ser Alliser glared at Ysilla.

"My squire," Waymar said.

"You're not a knight once you take the black. You'll not be having any squires unless you become one of the high officers." He sucked the cold air of the north through his teeth. "This boy stays to take the black or he goes back with your lord father."

Waymar glanced at his father, who dismounted slowly. "Where is the Lord Commander?" his father asked, gruffly.

"In the Lord Commander's Tower," he growled at Lord Royce, pointing to a rugged tower beside the common hall.

Lord Royce swept his sable cloak aside as he turned. "Come, boy," he said to Ysilla as Waymar dismounted.

Ysilla quickly dropped down from her horse and left the reins in Waymar's trembling hand. With a quick smile to her brother, she followed her father to the Lord Commander's Tower. Walking up the stone steps behind her father, she hoped that she would somehow be sent back to Winterfell.

"Remember to hold your tongue," her father warned her before entering the chambers. He knocked briskly on the door with a light-handed fist. When there was no answer, he pounded harder and louder.

"Enter," an older voice said.

Her father opened the doors and entered to find grizzled man with a wrinkly bald head sitting at a large desk with a raven on his arm. He was not alone, however. Another brother of the Night's Watch sat across from him. "Lord Commander," her father said. "I beg your pardon, my lord, I did not mean to intrude."

Lord Commander Jeor Mormont shook his hand in the air as if it didn't matter. "I was told of your arrival," he said, shaking the bird off his arm after it pestered him for corn. "This is First Ranger, Benjen Stark."

Ysilla blinked and became wide-eyed as she stared at Benjen Stark.

"My son's squire, Seth," Lord Royce said with disinterest as he closed the door.

Ysilla remained silent and tried to be invisible, but Benjen stared at her intently with a frown and sadness in his blue-grey eyes.

"Your son is here to take the black, I understand," Mormont said, scratching his wild beard.

Ysilla noticed how grizzly he looked, much like a giant bear. But the other one scared her. Perhaps it was the sharp gaunt face or his thin build that shook her. Perhaps it was the intense stare.

"And the girl?" Mormont asked. "What's her purpose here?"

Her father's face drained of all color and soon his bushy grey eyebrows matched his pale skin. "My lord," he started.

Mormont raised a large hand and shook his head. "I do not have the time for lies or games, Lord Royce," he said in a gruff voice.

"Clearly, he's trying to make the Night's Watch look like a bunch of fools," Benjen said.

Her father stood tall and proud as he admitted, "I am afraid for my daughter. There is something coming, my lord. Something evil. I wanted to make sure she was safe and as far away from Runestone as possible."

"The Night's Watch is no place for a woman, or rather a little girl," Benjen said without looking at her.

"The Wall is always in need of extra hands, is it not?" Ysilla spoke out of turn, surprising her father and Benjen. Her words only made Mormont laugh. "I may not be able to fight like a man, but I can hunt or harvest. I can also cook if it pleases you, my lord." She lowered her eyes slowly.

Mormont chuckled. "She's reminds me of my sister and my nieces… fiery women that know what they want and how to obtain it." He turned his eyes to Benjen, whose pale face turned pink.

"My lord?" her father asked Mormont. "What is your decision?"

Mormont sighed. "I cannot have the other men know of this. If word of this was breathed to anyone, the Night's Watch would be nothing more than a jest in the eyes of the Seven Kingdoms. We hardly have a good reputation as it is… what with the lack of recruits and volunteers, we're barely floundering." He shook his head. "If we were to be attacked today, we would survive, but if they attacked tomorrow and the day after that, the Wall would crumble. The Seven Kingdoms would be in danger."

He eyed Benjen sharply. "On your oath, Stark, you'll swear to protect this brother."

Benjen drew in a breath and nodded, but he looked less than convinced. "She will need quarters away from the others," he said. Turning towards her, he crossed his arms. "Have you bled yet?"

Ysilla felt her cheeks warm as she blushed in front of him. She bit her lip and nodded.

"We'll have to keep you hidden for that week," Mormont said. He glanced at Benjen. "Don't you need a new squire, Stark?"

"My lord?"

"I think this lad would fit the job," Mormont smiled at Benjen.

Ysilla glanced at her father as he nodded at the Lord Commander. "Am I to take the black?"

Mormont shook his head and Benjen sighed.

"She could stay in Hardin Tower," Mormont said. "And make sure no one else knows."

"Keeping secrets from the others will surely divide the Brotherhood, my lord," Benjen said.

Mormont sighed. "We would have to allow her to participate in the training like the others," he looked at Lord Royce in the eye. "It's not an easy road, the Brotherhood. She will be facing obstacles that even some of the young men can't pass."

Lord Royce nodded. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he said confidently, though his eyes looked concerned. He turned to his daughter. "You'll be fine," he reassured her. "Remember to remain close to your brother and whenever you can spare the time, pray in the godswood."

"We have no godswood on the premises, my lord," Benjen said. "She would have to venture into the Haunted Forest if she wished to pray to the Old Gods."

"So be it," her father said to her. "Go and pray, Ysilla. Pray that all of this is over quickly and we return to the days of long summers."

Mormont narrowed his eyes at Lord Royce when he said those words. "Winter is coming," he muttered.

Benjen spun towards the Lord Commander.

"The haunted forest?" Ysilla asked with fear in her eyes. Just the name of the woods sounded eerie and terrifying.

"Benjen, escort her to the godswood to show her the way," Mormont said. "I'd like to speak to her father alone."

Benjen nodded and without a word or any gesture, walked to the doors and flung them open. He padded down the tower steps in his tall black leather boots, his cloak sweeping behind him like shadow as he stormed into the courtyard. By the time Ysilla had followed him down the steps and out into the cold air, a young man with curly brown hair brought Benjen's horse from the stables.

She sighed when she noticed her own mare and her father's horse were left to roam freely around the courtyard. Quickly, she caught her father's horse and loosely tied the reins to a nearby post. Where was that brother of hers?

"Is something wrong, boy?" Benjen asked.

She shook her head as she followed him towards the wall of ice that loomed before them. Into the Wall, itself, a narrow tunnel had been cut through the ice, just wide enough to allow her to walk her horse through the twists and turns into the cold. They passed through iron gates numerous times, all locked with massive chains. "How much farther?" she asked impatiently.

Benjen turned towards her and shook his head. "The Haunted Forest is beyond the Wall. Since we are still within the Wall, I would wager that we are not there yet."

Ysilla frowned. "I didn't mean to offend you, my lord," she said.

"I'm not a lord… I'm a brother of the Night's Watch. Soon to be your brother to protect you."

"Without an oath, how am I to be part of the Brotherhood?" she asked.

"You'll still be under my protection," he said, unlocking the last of the gates that blocked their way.

Ysilla drew her cloak tightly around her as her breath drew out of her lips in wispy fingers.

"You'll feel a little better once we're outside," Benjen said when he noticed her shiver. "We're nearly there."

Ysilla nodded and followed him to the mouth of the tunnel, where the air was still as cold as inside the Wall, but the sun gave the impression of a warmer environment. She mounted her horse alongside Benjen. "Has there been much trouble this close to the Wall?"

Benjen led her to the forest with its twisted trees and shadows that grew darker the closer they came. When they reached the godswood, Ysilla dropped her mouth open and her horse backed up warily. The godswood was set in a small clearing, surrounded by nine weirwoods.

Ysilla dismounted and entered the grove with soft padded steps. Each of the tree trunks was smooth and white with a haunting face staring at her. Its eyes were red from the dried sap, where the Children of the Forest had carved the faces. Her hands lightly touched each of the faces in turn before finding one she liked.

Benjen stood outside the grove with his arms crossed.

"Are you coming in?"

He shook his head as he peered at her through two of the white trunks.

Ysilla knelt down and prayed silently at first. Her thoughts and requests were private and she didn't want outsiders to hear her. But as she sat before her chosen weirwood friend, her courage bubbled up within her and she found herself having a conversation as if the tree was talking back to her.

Benjen poked his head into the glade and followed her voice until he stood behind her. "Who are you talking to?"

"The Old Gods," she said. "I'm asking them to help me get through this with as much strength as they can spare. I'm asking them to watch over my father and my brothers, all of them. I'm asking them to watch over the Starks in Winterfell, including Jon Snow." She turned her head up at him. "You must think I'm a fool for believing in such things…"

Benjen shook his head with a smirk. "Not at all," he said. "But the Starks? How do you know them?"

"We met them on our way to the Wall and we accepted their hospitality. I prayed for you, as well, my lord." Her grey eyes sparkled in the grove as she looked up at him.

"Why me?"

"Because you're here to protect me, even when it's not your responsibility. You have no obligation to keep me safe, and yet… you agreed."

"I accepted my orders from the Lord Commander," he said. "It's not out of choice."

Ysilla turned her head away from him and closed her eyes again to pray.

"What are you doing now?"

"I'm taking back my prayer for you," she said. She folded her hands on her lap and lowered her head.

Benjen laughed at her. "Fine," he said. "You win."

Ysilla looked up at him again and for the first time, she saw laughter in his blue-grey eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

"We mustn't linger in the Haunted Forest any more than necessary," Benjen Stark whispered in a low voice accompanied by an extended gloved hand.

The worn leather was soft and supple when Ysilla laid her fingers in his palm.

"You'll be needing some thicker gloves or you'll be quick to lose those fingers," he commented as he tugged her up from her knees. He stared down at her small hand and sighed with a shake of his head. Looking up to the sky suddenly, his eyes crinkled as a light dusting of snow fell upon his face. "It'll be night soon enough. We must hurry back."

The horses began to whinny and stamp their feet when Benjen turned to them. He raised an arm towards Ysilla to keep her behind him.

"What is it?" she whispered.

Benjen hushed her with a finger to her lips before padding to the edge of the grove with a longsword in his hand. His eyes darted between the white trunks but he did not see anything out of the ordinary. The Haunted Forest was silent except for the distant crackling of ice. Still, the horses were uneasy and Benjen looked as though he felt it as well.

His face, already pale, lost all color when he turned to look back at Ysilla. "What, are you praying again?" his voice sounded irritated.

Ysilla was not on her knees, but her expression was solemn and pensive. She lowered her eyes and quietly said her prayer. "Prayers can do wonders sometimes," she said to him as she lifted her lashes. Taking a step forward, her foot crushed the red leaves that carpeted the grove. She stopped midstep when she heard the howling winds and an odd shuffling. The sound was not as far away as the crackling ice. It seemed very close, causing the hairs on the back of neck to rise like the quills of a porcupine.

"Did you hear that?" Benjen asked in a quiet whisper as he crouched down with his eyes wary of his surroundings.

Ysilla joined him. "If we can mount the horses, we can ride back quickly to the tunnel," she whispered, placing a hand on his sword arm. Beneath her fingers, Benjen Stark trembled. "We cannot stay here, Ben," she said, gripping his arm tightly with her fingers.

The darkness of the shadows played tricks on them, forcing them to believe they were alone. The Haunted Forest seemed cruel to Ysilla. All she wanted was to pray in the godswood for her family and for some others, nothing more. And yet, they were trapped within the grove, hiding from the unknown.

"Maybe it's a group of wildings," she offered in his ear. "Perhaps they've been sent to scout the Wall."

"If that's the case, they shouldn't be allowed to pass," Benjen said to her.

"I said maybe," she shook her head. "There's no evidence that the sounds are coming from wildings or wights, or the Others."

Benjen rounded the white trunk and disappeared into the shadows, melting into the darkness with his black clothes. His face remained exposed as he tiptoed into the forest.

Ysilla watched him fade into the shadows, the glint of his longsword the only remnant that signaled his existence in the woods. She followed after him, quietly, though her boots made the snow beneath her feet crunch as though they were gravel. The snow veiled her vision as she tried to track Benjen Stark. _Quiet one. Where did you go?_ She stopped to glance around for any sign of him.

Her skin prickled when she heard a footstep ahead of her. The sound echoed against the trees around her, but somehow she knew it was straight ahead of her. There was no mistake. It was the sound of footfall, a heavy weighted foot. Slowly, she snaked between the trees, careful not to make any harsh sounds that would announce her presence. Her breath quickened and steamed out from between her lips as light billowy clouds when she came upon a ridge that overlooked a small camp.

The fire burned brightly in the center of camp, a lean-two sagged against a large tree near the fire. Men, women, and children sat close together, huddling against the cold and the snow. Wildings. Ysilla dropped her mouth open as she stared at them, exposed between two trees. As her eyes dropped to one of the men, who sat with a double-edged axe by his hand, a gloved hand covered her mouth, while another gloved hand wrapped around her waist.

Her muffled scream echoed around her, but didn't go very far. He turned her around with enraged eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked her as he shook her.

"I was looking for you," she responded.

"You really _are_ a stupid girl!" he snapped as he walked ahead of her towards the godswood and the horses. "Do you have any idea what you've stumbled upon?"

"Wildlings," she said. "A group of wildings this close to the Wall." She hurried after him, almost running into him when he suddenly stopped without a word.

Ysilla didn't understand his sudden halt until she peered around him. Her eyes widened when she saw her horse on the ground with a child kneeling beside it. She moved swiftly towards her mare until Benjen caught her arm and pulled her back towards him. "My horse!" she cried before he could get a hand over her mouth.

The child turned his head slowly.

"Look at what he did to my mare! That wildling savaged my horse!"

Benjen pulled her back further away. "Go into the godswood and make sure you're not seen. Be very careful and quiet. Stay low to the ground and try not to move," he ordered. "Go!"

Ysilla tripped over her own feet but did as he commanded. She padded around the grove of weirwood and entered the godswood slowly, inching herself lower against the smooth white bark of a trunk. She chose to crouch down on the opposite side of the grove, allowing her an unobstructed view of Benjen and the child. The snow made it difficult to see details, however.

She bit her lip when Benjen approached the child, who hissed and groaned at him.

Benjen did not speak nor did he make any sudden movements. He watched the child as it lumbered to its feet slowly and unevenly. He sidestepped to draw it away from the godswood and away from the only way to return to the Wall quickly.

It seemed attracted to the shiny sword in Benjen's hand, following its every movement as Benjen swung it in the air and twirled it before the child. It lunged after the object, grasping with uncoordinated hands. Its mouth was open, drawing out a loud, eerie moan as it swung at Benjen.

Ysilla could see Benjen's face beyond the outskirts of the godswood and the guilt in his expression. She padded into the glade, her feet crunching the red leaves with each step. She cringed when she heard the leaves break beneath her weight. She tried to be as quiet as a mouse but her curiosity and concern overpowered her common senses. Her hands braced the smooth trunk of the closest weirwood as she peered out towards the ranger.

Benjen had avoided the boy's advances smoothly. His eyes watched the thing waddle towards him, its footsteps uneven and heavy. He used the butt of his sword to send the child backwards on wobbling legs. His face showed more sadness than rage as he swung his sword to slice the child in two.

Ysilla covered her mouth with her hands, expecting a ripple of blood to poor out from the child's body. Instead, as she approached Benjen, she saw that there was little blood in the snow. "There's no blood," she said as she stared down at the child, whose icy blue eyes stared up at her.

"It's a wight," Benjen said. "The only way to kill it is to burn it."

"But we have no fire," she said to him.

He nodded. "I'm aware of that fact," he replied without looking at her. He stared down at the child as its arms flailed at him, its hands grasping at the air as if it wanted a toy or a sweet. The muscle in his jaw clenched and he released a deep sigh.

"It'll keep coming, won't it?" she asked.

Benjen nodded. "Until it's dead…" He raised his sword and lopped off one of the arms that attempted to turn its body onto its belly.

Ysilla watched as it hissed at him, the amputated limb writhing with swollen black fingers at her feet. Its hand grasped her ankle, the icy chill penetrating through her leather boot. She squealed in panic, kicking her leg up to force it to release her, but its vice-like grip was unyielding.

Benjen had to rip its grip from Ysilla's ankle, one finger at a time. When she was freed, he threw the arm into the woods. His breath became ragged when his eyes returned to the child's face. With a grunt, he swung his longsword and swiftly detached its head, sending it rolling away as it continued to hiss and groan. The attached limb searched for warmth, dragging the trunk behind it towards Ysilla's feet.

"We must go," Benjen said, pushing her towards his horse.

"I don't have…" her words were cut short when his arm reached down for her. She hesitated at first, glancing back at her mare, which was veiled in fresh snow.

"We don't have time for this," he said, his eyes wary of the wight's body as it moved towards them.

Ysilla grasped his arm and he swung her up behind him, keeping his gloved hand on hers as she wrapped them around his waist. She clung tightly to him, the sable cloak brushing its soft fur against her cheek as they rode back towards the tunnel. She glanced over her shoulder as they exited the Haunted Forest. Half-expecting to see an army of wildlings or wights behind them, she breathed a sigh of relief when the shadows retreated into the depths of the woods.

Benjen didn't stop until he reached the mouth of the tunnel. He remained silent as he rode, squeezing her hands tightly when she stiffened her muscles around his sides. When they arrived at the Wall, he lowered her first to the ground before dismounting. He shoved the reins of his mount into her hands and pushed her through the tunnel first.

Ysilla trembled as she shuffled through the narrow tunnel in the Wall. She heard the iron gates close behind her one after another until the third and last one was finally shut with a loud clang. Once she was on the south side of the Wall, she felt relief. But before she could move into the courtyard, Benjen grasped her arm and pulled her aside.

"No one hears of this tale," he said to her, tightening his grip around her wrist. "I will report this to the Lord Commander, but no one else, not even Ser Alliser, will hear of this from you. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

Benjen released her. "Take the horse to the stables. And join the other recruits when you're done in the Common Hall for supper."

She watched him walk away, his sable cloak billowing behind him as he strode to the Lord Commander's Tower.


	4. Chapter 4

Ysilla sat quietly at the end of the long wooden table, half covered in shadow. She wasn't surprised this side of the Common Hall was always deserted. It was the furthest from the large burning hearth and thus the coldest. She didn't mind, however. It was her place now. And she had her hot bowl of stew to keep her warm.

She turned her head towards her brother, Waymar, as he sat with his new companions at the other end of the hall, their raucous laughter echoing throughout the hall. As she continued to watch them, she almost felt pity for her brother. The others were making jokes at his expense and he hardly noticed. She had to keep her mouth closed when Gared, an older ranger, commented on her brother's sable cloak.

Her brother seemed quite indifferent to the teasing, however. Silently listening to Gared and laughing with the others when Gared mimicked unscrewing sable heads with his thick hands. He stood from his seat on the bench and staggered to Ysilla with a cup of wine. "And you're here all by yourself," he said. Her brother could never hold his liquor, no matter how weak or watered down it was.

"Leave me be, Waymar," she hissed at him under her breath. She ignored him and warmed her hands with her stew.

"You should join us, where it's warmer," he slurred. "And not skulk in the shadows. There's plenty of room and plenty of wine."

"There'll be more wine to drink if you don't leave me alone, Waymar," she growled. "And if you don't leave me alone right now, you'll not be a ranger… rangers find it hard to fight without a hand. Do you want to be a steward?"

Waymar scoffed and staggered back to his new friends and poured himself more wine.

"That was pretty harsh," Benjen Stark commented behind her. He took a seat across from her with a bowl of stew.

"Shouldn't you be eating with the Lord Commander or the other officers?" she asked. Her eyes caught his smile as the others stared at them from across the room. "Everyone's staring." Her face turned beet red as she picked at her vegetables. "Why is everyone staring at us?"

"They're staring at me," he said, enjoying his stew.

"Why are they staring at you, then?" she lifted her eyes at him as she blew on a spoonful of stew to cool it.

He shrugged.

Ysilla tore into her bread and tried to ignore the eyes on them but she knew her face betrayed her. She felt the warmth in her cheeks spread to her ears and into her scalp before creeping down onto her forehead and her nose.

"Are you embarrassed?" he asked her. "Or is the stew too hot?" The laughter in his eyes returned and his lips curled into a smile.

"Shut up," she said in a low voice. She shoveled a spoon full of stew into her mouth, burning her tongue in the process. After downing a cup of wine, she glanced up at his amused face. "What did the Lord Commander have to say?"

His smile ran away from his face and his eyes narrowed at her. "He was interested," he whispered. "But since it was just one, he thinks it was just a lost child. He doesn't think it was a threat. Just a coincidence." He chewed his bread, dipping it into the stew to soften it. "He wants you to start your training with the others tomorrow morning."

Ysilla nodded with a sigh as her hands began to tremble.

"Ser Alliser won't be very kind. He never is to any of the recruits. And if you come from a highborn family with luxuries, he'll be even tougher with you. But seeing that you're just a squire, he may not be as rough with you as he will be with the little lord. Just remember everything he shows you and do as you're told." He glanced over to Waymar with a perplexed expression.

"Waymar," she said in a low voice. "He can't hold his wine. He never could. If he's not careful, he may end up waking up in the pig trough." She sighed as she glanced over at him.

Her brother laughed loudly as Will, a young ranger with brown hair and light eyes, poured him another drink. She was tempted to stand and rip the cup from his hand and send him to the barracks to sleep off his stupor, but that would have been a bad idea. She didn't want to bring attention to herself and the last thing she needed was the reputation of being a nursemaid to the new recruit.

"He'll learn to resist wine in the morning," Benjen said. "When he wakes up with the pigs or in one of the horse stalls."

"Where is the Lord Commander? Doesn't he sup with the brothers?" She looked around the hall and noticed the officers seated at a table close to the fire. Her eyes floated to Ser Alliser Thorne, who glared at the recruits with stern eyes of black.

Benjen chewed his bread.

"Where am I to sleep tonight?" she asked in a low voice, staring into Benjen's gaunt face.

He swallowed hard and looked around the hall before leaning forward. "Hardin Tower," he said in a low voice. "No one uses it and you shouldn't be disturbed there. But try to keep yourself unnoticed if you can. They'll be suspicious if you're not in the barracks with the others."

"What will you tell them?"

"Nothing." He glared at her.

"Perhaps, I should sleep with the others in the barracks until I have an excuse to be quarantined? I doubt any of them will give me much trouble right now." Her eyes glanced at the other recruits and turned her attention back to Benjen. "At least until tomorrow night and after a full day's training."

Benjen smirked. "As you wish," he mumbled. He soaked the last of his stew up with his bread and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly, savoring the taste in his mouth.

Ysilla hardly touched her food. Staring down at the bowl, she noted that the only redeeming quality of the stew was that it was hot and kept her hands and face warm. She frowned as she glanced up at Benjen's watchful eyes.

"You'll starve if you don't eat," he said. "Even if it's not a roasted pig, it'll keep you full and keep you alive."

She crinkled her nose at the bowl before her and scooped up a spoonful of vegetables.

"You remind me of my sister," he commented. "She was as stubborn as you."

"Oh, I had no idea there was a Lady Stark," she said, dropping the spoon back down.

He shook his head. "She passed years ago during Robert's Rebellion," he said. "Lyanna was her name. Impossibly headstrong and willful, she was a nightmare, though everyone thought of her as a dream."

"The heart sees what it wants to," Ysilla said to him in a low voice.

"King Robert was madly in love with her before he married the Lannister girl… to this day, he speaks of her highly. He doesn't know that she despised him and his drinking and his promiscuity. He never saw the way she sneered at him. He only saw her beauty." He laughed to himself. "If it wasn't for that Targaryen, there may never have been a war and the world, as we know it now, would surely be different."

"Do you think it would be better or worse?"

He shrugged. "Just different."

Ysilla nodded. "You mean the Mad King?" she asked in a low voice.

He shook his head, looking around the hall before speaking. "I mean his son. He kidnapped her and took her away. Ned found her in the Tower of Joy… and that's where she died. That prince didn't have the courage to stay there with her." His words choked in his throat as the hall suddenly grew still and all eyes were on him.

Ysilla wanted to reach her hand out to him and comfort him, but she knew it was a bad choice. Instead, she listened silently and looked indifferent when the hall became silent. Her hands tore into her bread and she chewed as though there was nothing wrong. Glancing around she saw the men slowly return to their own stories, one by one, until only the eyes of Ser Alliser Thorne fell upon them. Her mouth opened as she chewed until he turned away in disgust.

Benjen leaned on his elbows and fingered the lip of his bowl without a word.

"You must miss her terribly," she said.

He glanced up at her and shook his head. "I've learned to let go of my family," he said with a stiff lip. "As a brother of the Night's Watch, I don't have a family or ties to anyone other than my duty. My brothers are my only family now."

She nodded. "This isn't a prison, though, correct?"

He nodded. "True. Most of the brothers are allowed to leave with permission to visit family if need be. The criminals, however, are never allowed leave. They are bound to this place and if they try to desert, they are punished."

"Do you visit your brother often?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head. "I write him letters but I haven't had any reason to visit in person."

She stared into his face. "You miss your family," she observed. "Your nephews and nieces."

He gave her a half-smile and shook his head as if she was incorrect, but his eyes told her she wasn't far from the truth.

"It's hard to dismiss your family even for honor and duty," she lowered her voice.

"You should go get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, Ser Alliser is going to work you harder than ever before in your life. You'll need your rest."

She rose from the table gracefully and turned to walk out of the Common Hall. Without a word, she strode into the courtyard, which was dusted with a fine layer of new snow. Staring up at the Wall, she wondered what it looked like to be up at the top. Her lips twisted into disappointment. It would probably be a while before she was taken up there. Not until she was an actual brother of the Night's Watch. Her eyes never left the edge of the Wall as it spanned as far as she could see and further into the darkness.

"Did you want to go to the top?" Benjen asked.

She shook her head. "It such a height! I don't think…"

Benjen chuckled. "I could take you up, if you wish."

"I should go get some rest for tomorrow," she said, backing away from him.

"As you wish," he replied.

Ysilla walked into the barracks to find the beds lined in rows beside each other with little or no spaces between them. She glanced over her shoulder at Benjen, who followed her in, with a frown. "There's no privacy in here."

He shook his head. "No there isn't. You'll be neck deep in recruits with their snoring and drooling, and whatever else they might do when no one's looking." His lips had a smirk.

She chose the end bunk, which had the least padding and looked as though it would collapse if offered too much weight. Her nose crinkled at the smell of sweat and urine in the room. Her fingers peeled back the blankets to see what was underneath it all.

"Hey! That's my bed, rat," a young, cocky man with wide eyes and a flat nose said to her as he walked in through the door.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said in her low male voice. She moved to another bed that seemed unoccupied, until another brother claimed it as his own. Every choice she made seemed to be the wrong one and what remained for her was an uncomfortable slice of bed between two large men that smelled like the sewers and snored like bears.

She didn't get any sleep that night as elbows flew into her ribs or her breasts and drool slid down her shoulders and into her hair. Sitting up, she crawled out of bed and wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders as she exited the barracks. Her eyes could barely stay open as she yawned and walked through the courtyard in the darkness. A few torches were lit to mark the entrances to the towers and the Common Hall, but she wasn't interested in any of those places.

Her eyes flew up to the top of the Wall.


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you want?" A brother in black asked gruffly. "What business do you have?"

Ysilla stepped towards him warily, holding her cloak close to her body. "I wanted to see from the top."

"Yeah? You and every other green recruit that comes up in here," he moaned. "But at least _they_ have the decency to wait until the sun's up and it's a little warmer instead of bothering me in the dead of night. What do you expect to see in the dark, boy? Ghosts? Wights? The Others?"

"Are you going to let me go up or not?" she asked impatiently as the howling wind blew through Castle Black. She narrowed her eyes at the lack of walls around Castle Black. If there were some walls, she thought, at least the winds wouldn't be so terrible.

The brother grumbled as he opened the cage doors. "You'll be wise to think this through. Once you're up there, I'm not bringing you or anyone else down until the sun's up." He slammed the cage door shut once Ysilla was inside the elevator, his dark eyes staring at her as part of his irritated expression.

The ride up was slow and shaky as the iron box rose slowly up the side of the Wall, leveling with the window of the Lord Commander's Tower, and surpassing it. Looking down, at Castle Black, she wondered how such a site was not invaded more often by the northlings. Surely, the lack of walls around this castle would be their advantage. But as she rose higher and higher and the land grew further away from her, she understood. The Wall was the perfect barrier between the Seven Kingdoms and whatever lay to the North, be it wildlings, wights, or the Others.

By the time she reached the top, her eyes saw the first break in the horizon. She opened the cage doors and exited the box to set her first step on the Wall. The cold spread from the sole of her boot through her body and she found herself shivering as she stood in the shadows, while a few of the brothers huddled in a warming shed nearby.

The battlement seemed wide enough to allow at least ten men on horseback to ride abreast, maybe more. Walking close to the edge, she caught the eyes of the men in the shed, but they seemed too cold to even bother with her. One brother, all in black, from his hair to his boots, turned as he stood by a fire.

"What are you doing up here?" Benjen asked. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

"I couldn't sleep. I got hit in the chest and drooled on. I don't like my sleeping arrangements," she complained in a low voice.

"That's the life of a brother of the Night's Watch," he said without looking at her. Instead, he held his gloved hands out at the fire.

She frowned.

"This is one of the new recruits?" one of the men in the shed asked.

Benjen nodded. "This is Seth. Comes from Runestone with Waymar Royce."

The man in the shed snorted. "Waymar Royce… the blubbering fool who's already in all black, thinking he's already a ranger?" He laughed, showing few teeth. "Ser Alliser is going to eat him up and spit him out."

"I heard Garred spout a story about that sable cloak of his," the other one chuckled. "Did he really pull the heads of the sables himself, boy?" He looked at her with wild eyes.

Ysilla shrugged. "I don't know what he did. I wasn't there."

"Have you seen the other end?" Benjen changed the subject.

Ysilla shook her head.

"Come, let me show you," he walked away from the shed and the edge of the Wall, slowly taking his time as he strolled down the center of the battlement with Ysilla in tow. He glanced behind his shoulder to see her face marvel at the sights from so high up. "Best keep that mouth shut or it might get frozen that way," he chuckled.

Ysilla pressed her lips together as she followed him. "What's there to see on the other end?"

"I prefer it if you stayed away from the other brothers as much as possible. They're a brave lot, but they like to talk. And we can't have anyone discovering your secret," his voice was low and quiet like a whisper. "It would make my job harder." He turned to face her. "Do you understand?"

She nodded. Thankfully, she hasn't met anyone who was intelligent enough to figure it out, though she worried that Ser Alliser may come to the conclusion when she swings and hits things like a girl instead of a boy. "I worry about convincing Ser Alliser, though," she confessed as they continued their walk.

Ysilla followed Benjen closely for almost half a mile when he stopped to peer out to the North. "Do you know what your father was talking about when he said there was danger ahead?" he asked her.

"He mentioned something about Jon Arryn warning him about something. I can't remember. He said that Lord Arryn told him to keep our family safe, I think. And that's why I'm here."

"What could possibly be coming where it's safer up here in the cold than in the Seven Kingdoms?" he asked her. "It doesn't make any sense."

She shrugged and stared out to the North beside him. "Maybe he was talking about the Others or the wights?"

"If that's the case, you would have been safer in Runestone," Benjen frowned. "No… if Lord Arryn told your father to keep you safe, then there's a danger within the Seven Kingdoms. But I don't see what. King Robert's in power, the Targaryens have been driven into exile across the Narrow Sea. We're finally at peace after a long and bloody war." He shook his head. "I don't see it."

Ysilla thought for a moment. "Jon Arryn is the Hand of the King, is he not?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps, it has to do with King Robert." Her words drifted out plainly from her lips, accompanied by a wispy cloud.

"He is the rightful King," Benjen said firmly. "He has Targaryen blood in him."

Ysilla nodded. "But something had shaken the Hand of the King enough to force him to warn my father. And even if he's the rightful king, it doesn't make him a good king. Wasn't Aerys II a good king?"

Benjen frowned. "At first, he may have been a good king… but he was mad."

"He wasn't mad when he took the Iron Throne… He only became mad after he was held prisoner," she lowered her eyes. "It was a result of something that happened to him that changed him."

"You certainly know your history. Your septa taught you well. But I'm surprised you're not spouting out songs the Dragon Prince." He snorted. "Lyanna loved the song of the Dragon Prince."

She smirked. "I'm not Lyanna. And we had no septa. My father educated all of us, particularly me. He wanted to ensure that when I married, I wasn't going to be just a prize for my husband to parade in front of the court. He groomed me to make sure I could hold the attention of a good man, seeing that beauty fades eventually." Her grey eyes looked up at his angular face.

"He wasn't wrong," Benjen said. "Men can falter… even good men."

"Like your brother?" she asked, studying his expression as it changed.

Benjen's eyes closed and he shook his head. "It's a sore subject," he replied. "Cat's had a hard time dealing with it… but Jon's still our blood. He's a Stark… just a nontraditional one. But you can certainly see Stark in him."

"I can only imagine what she must be feeling with the constant reminder every day," she replied.

"Cat's a good woman to allow that boy to live with them. She didn't have to," Benjen said, opening his eyes.

"When did you join the Night's Watch?" she asked him.

"After the war… when Ned came home with Jon… I guess it was around that time," he rubbed his head with his gloved hand with a laugh. "It's been so long, I can't remember any more."

The sun was slowly creeping above the horizon, dusting a soft bronze color to the world below them.

"Do you think we have to worry about the wildlings?" she asked, staring off at the ice and snowcapped mountains in the distance.

Benjen sighed. "I hope not… but they're unpredictable."

Ysilla sighed. "I wish I stayed in Winterfell."

Benjen gave her a strange look. "Why?"

"I don't belong up here… I don't have any idea of how to fight. And…" She lowered her eyes and shook her head. "It doesn't matter anyway."

"Why didn't you stay there, then?" he asked.

"My father wanted me to be near Waymar," she looked up at him. "And from the looks of it, he might need me."

Benjen nodded. "I'm hoping he's as good as he looks," he chuckled. "We're always honored when a knight volunteers to be of service to the Watch. I just hope he understands what he's about to lose."

She lowered her eyes. "He's not going to become the Lord of the house when father dies. That privilege goes to Andar, the eldest. Then, next in line is Robar. Waymar would rather serve here with honor now than sit around waiting for his turn. I always tell him to be patient and level-headed, but sometimes, his pride overpowers him."

"I'm sure his pride will be put in its place later this morning," Benjen said.

She twisted her fingers beneath her cloak and glanced up at his calm expression. "Thank you," she said suddenly.

"Why are you thanking me?" he wondered aloud with a cock of his head.

"I never thanked you for what you did in the Haunted Forest," she whispered. "And also, thank you for listening."

He gave her a smile. "We're brothers now, so to speak. We're all here to keep you safe."

She nodded. "Father said I couldn't trust most of them, though."

"He's not far from the truth. But so long as you keep your secret safe, you're just another lad here to join the brotherhood." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Everything will be fine."

She nodded and they spent the rest of the early morning on the Wall, watching the dawn break on the horizon.

After breakfast, Ysilla found herself with padded armor over her extremely itchy and smelly clothes, standing in the middle of the courtyard with the five other recruits, including her brother. She held a sword in her hand, which was heavy for her, but she tried to keep her discomfort to herself. Her eyes glanced to her brother, who stood ready to fight anything that came towards him.

"Ready, are we, Royce?" Ser Alliser asked, looking at the other men. His eyes narrowed at Ysilla, who avoided his gaze purposefully. With a sneer on his lips, pointed her towards her brother, who looked disappointed.

Ysilla raised her sword with both hands and steadied it in front of her as she firmly gripped the handle. Her brother swung his sword with ease, catching her on the arm with a downward swipe, which brought tears to her eyes.

"You'll need to move faster than that, rat," Ser Alliser said to her with his arms crossed. "If you don't dodge his blows, you die. If you don't block his blows, you die."

Ysilla narrowed her eyes at Waymar. He sent another straight blow, catching her on the shoulder, and forcing her to drop her sword at Ser Alliser's feet. Waymar beamed brightly at his accomplishment and stood proudly as Ysilla stooped to retrieve her sword. As she lifted the sword, Ser Alliser's hard leather boot stepped on the edge of her blade, preventing her from picking it up. She glanced up at the hard lines on the trainer's face and suddenly felt smaller than she was.

"You need to keep the sword in your hand," Ser Alliser's voice grated harshly. "And your enemy will not give you a chance to pick up a dropped sword. You'd be dead right now, if this was an actual battle." He removed his foot from her sword and turned to the others. "You, Harclay, show this little rat how it's done with Royce."

Ronnel Harclay was a lean boy with shaggy red hair that was cut unevenly. His freckled face looked terrified as Waymar approached him in his black mail and helm. His sword was a shaking extension of his arm as he steadied himself for Waymar's first attack. The first clash had a rough ring to Ysilla's ears, but as the swords swiped against each other, the song of metal upon metal became clearer. The boy was adept with his weapon as he swung at Waymar swiftly, catching him in the ribs when Waymar lifted his sword for a huge downward swipe.

Waymar growled and sent a sideways glance against Ronnel's stomach, hitting him roughly against his training mail. Harclay doubled over for a second, only to be sent backwards onto his butt by a quick knee to his chin. The others hollered at Waymar, who had a smug expression on his face.

"That's the way, Royce," Ser Alliser encouraged. "You, Wallen!"

Wallen didn't wait for Harclay to move out of the way before starting his attack with a wild cry that sent shivers down Ysilla's back. He was a tall, older man with silver stubble on his gaunt face. He may not have been as old as Ser Alliser, but it was clear that he had more years than most of the brothers of the Night's Watch. He charged Waymar, followed by Stiv, a big bald man with a wind burned face.

Waymar managed to avoid Wallen's charge, but bowled over when Stiv shouldered him in the back. Breathless, Waymar staggered to his feet when Wallen swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing back down in his mail. With a laugh, Wallen bowed at Ysilla and Stiv, who sniggered under his breath. Ser Alliser was not impressed.

"Luke!" his voice echoed in the courtyard as a skinny boy with a long nose and white blond hair dropped his sword. "Pick up your weapon and get in there!"

Ronnel Harclay managed to clamber to his feet by the time Luke stepped towards Wallen. The skinny blond did not raise his sword at Wallen. Instead, he watched Waymar jump back into the fight and swing his sword at Wallen, missing his neck by two inches.

"Bloody fool! You nearly got me!" Wallen screamed at Waymar.

Ser Alliser growled, "That's the point, Wallen. If Royce had been a wildling, you'd be dead. Your head would be rolling around my feet right now."

"I got him," Wallen argued.

"Unless you kill your opponent, you can predict that he'll get back up again to take another shot at you." He turned towards the others with a shake of his head. "You're all sad. You're weak!" His eyes grazed Ysilla sharply, then shot to Luke, and Harclay. "Get your mail off and get some food in your bellies. This afternoon, you'll be working with your bows."

_Finally! Something I'm good at!_ Ysilla smiled to herself as she followed the others to the armory. She stood beside her brother and unfastened her mail and most of her woolens. Her eyes kept a sharp watch on the others, who stood at the other end of the hall, stripping their training mail and woolens off completely. Glancing up at her brother's face, she noticed how angry he appeared. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

He didn't answer. Instead, he stripped down and pulled on the brother's uniform, roughspun blacks instead of his own black leathers. He sighed as he fastened his cloak around his shoulders. His eyes took one glance at Ysilla and he shook his head in disgust.

Ysilla donned the uniform and fastened her cloak as quickly as she could, ignoring the others, who had come upon them silently.

"Not wearing your sable, Royce? Put your pet away for the winter?" Stiv laughed.

Royce ignored them and tried to walk around them, but Wallen blocked his way. "Stiv asked you a question, Ser Waymar," Wallen smirked.

"Let me pass," Waymar said without looking at either of them. Harclay and Luke had also gathered around to watch what would happen.

Wallen chuckled. "The knight wants to pass, Stiv."

"I heard him," Stiv said. "But I think he should be more polite about it. Seeing he's a knight and all. He's got knight codes or something, don't he? He needs to be more polite."

"Leave him alone," Ysilla snapped.

"Aww, look, the little rat's in love with the knight. Is he the knight of your little rat dreams?" Wallen asked, breathing heavily bad breath on her.

"Leave him out of this," Waymar said.

"The little knight is protecting the little rat. It must be true love!" Stiv cackled.

"Is there a problem, men?" Benjen Stark stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

Wallen and Stiv turned quickly, their faces ashen from the sudden appearance of the First Ranger. Without a word, the two slinked out of the armory, followed by Luke and Harclay.

"Waymar," Ysilla said, placing a hand on his arm.

Her brother immediately withdrew with a scowl. "You're ruining everything!" He rushed out of the armory without a word to Benjen, leaving her alone with him.

Ysilla's face saddened. She glanced at Benjen and said, "I was only trying to help."

Benjen nodded. "Some men don't want help. They don't want to admit that they need it."

"He hates me," she muttered.

"He'll always love you because you're family. You may hate each other during some stressful times, but in the end, you're his sister," he whispered. He closed the door to the armory and joined her. "How was your first day?"

She shrugged. "My muscles hurt and I'm tired," she complained. "The sword I had was too heavy. But Ser Alliser kept us practicing, even when we were tired."

"It's to prepare you for real battle. In war, you don't get to take breaks when you're fighting. You win or you die." He put his hands on her shoulders. "It may take a few days, but you will become accustomed to it."


	6. Chapter 6

The weeks went by and Ysilla never became accustomed to the training. Her arms became less sore when she swung her sword and her skills improved rapidly, but it never seemed to please Ser Alliser, who merely grunted at her, even when she managed to disarm Harclay or down Stiv with a stroke of her blade.

Ser Alliser's lips twitched when she finally defeated Wallen. "Are you expecting a song to be written in your honor? Did you want a treat?" His mouth changed into a scowl. "Royce!"

Her brother stepped over Wallen as he still groaned on the snow. His face was different, determined. He swung his sword quickly overhead but Ysilla anticipated his movements and blocked him with her sword and a loud clash of metal. His next attempt, an uppercut, was avoided by a twirl and she caught him in the back, smacking him with the flat of her blade as the others laughed at him.

Waymar sneered as he charged at her. His legs carried him quickly towards her, his sword extended out like a lance. In his haste, he missed his sister easily as she quickly stepped aside and rammed a knee into the padding around his stomach. Doubling over, his breath caught in his chest and he turned his head to look up at Ser Alliser's disappointed face.

"You'd be dead right now, Royce, all because that little rat managed to avoid your blade. You're not competing in a tourney. Your sword is not a lance. Anyone could come along side you and lop that hand off along with your sword." He turned away in disgust.

Ysilla watched as Royce staggered upright and took another swing at her. She wasn't prepared and he caught her on the side of the face with the flat of his blade before she could react, which set a wide smirk onto Ser Alliser's face as well as the faces of Stiv and Wallen. She fell to the ground with a ringing in her ear.

"Get up, rat!" Ser Alliser's voice was colder than the air around them, if that was even possible.

Ysilla slowly rose to her feet, only to be knocked down again when Stiv tackled Luke to the ground. She rolled out of the way quickly, avoiding Stiv's large elephant-like feet when he stamped around the yard in triumph. Sitting up, she caught Benjen watching her as he stood beside the Lord Commander near the entrance to his tower. She felt her cheeks warm and she sighed as it spread throughout her face.

Waymar sent a sword swing at Stiv, forcing him to grunt as it slapped against his padded armor. When Stiv stood straight up, he towered over Waymar by only a few inches, but they seemed like feet. He only flinched when Harclay came up behind him and caught him on the back. Stiv threw down his sword and grasped Harclay by the throat, lifting him up with wild eyes.

Ysilla stood up. "Stop it!" she cried in her lowest voice. When Stiv didn't listen, her instincts called for her to do something ultimately stupid. Rather than ignoring them, however, she walked towards the cackling giant and kicked him in the groin.

The action caused a stir among the men and a dark sneer from Ser Alliser. Stiv dropped the boy to the ground as he dropped to his knees in pain. His breath drew out in ragged snorts as he glanced at Ysilla and Harclay. "Looks like the little rat's got a new love," he laughed.

Ronnel Harclay shrugged off any sympathy or support from Ysilla with an icy glare. "I don't _need_ your help!" he snapped at her as he rose to his feet.

Ysilla took a step back from the group as all of the men watched her warily. Her brother shook his head and sighed, while Ser Alliser's face turned a surprising red.

"Ser Alliser," Benjen approached him as Lord Commander Mormont disappeared into his tower. "The Lord Commander would like to see the boy." He stared at Ysilla with a hard expression that made her want to run away from him.

"Go on, rat," Ser Alliser breathed through his teeth. "Follow Stark."

Ysilla took a step towards the Lord Commander's Tower as the rest of the recruits gossiped and chuckled behind her back. With a glance back at Ser Alliser's harsh stare, she squared her shoulders and followed Benjen up the tower steps to the Lord Commander's chambers.

"You wished to see me, my lord?" she said.

"Did I?" the Lord Commander laughed heartily. He took a look at Benjen and raised an eyebrow. "Stark?"

"I just wanted to diffuse the situation in the yard, my lord," Benjen said.

"Always thinking ahead of everything else," Mormont laughed. "That's why I can never beat you at chess." His raven fluttered about him until he landed on the Lord Commander's shoulder, demanding corn. "That's a nasty bruise," he waved the bird away with a snort and pointed at Ysilla's face.

Benjen turned her to face him and lifted her chin with a gloved finger. "Perhaps, she should see Maester Aemon."

"I'm fine," she said, batting his hand away from her face.

"You should be bleeding again soon," Benjen commented. "She could stay with Maester Aemon until it's over."

Ysilla frowned.

"Maester Aemon is a very wise and trustworthy man," Benjen said. "And he's blind. I doubt you'll have to worry about him."

She groaned. "I'll see him when I start bleeding." She had expected to experience her cycle weeks ago, but somehow it never appeared.

The Lord Commander caught her wary expression. "When was the last time you bled, my girl?" he asked.

She thought for a moment and glanced up at Benjen's interested face. "I would say over a month ago, my lord," she replied. "Just before we arrived at the Wall."

The raven fluttered up into the air and circled the three of them overhead until it decided to land on Benjen's shoulder to peck at his hair. It squawked and flew away when Benjen swatted it with his hand.

"Over a month? I thought you were a lady," he said with suspicious eyes.

"I… I am a lady. I'm a lady of the House Royce of Runestone," she said to him.

"A lady would not bed a man before marriage," Benjen said in a low voice. "That's the only possibility for the absence of her bleeding… if she's with child."

"I'm not with child! And I certainly haven't bedded anyone!" Her face turned red from embarrassment and anger, though she wasn't sure which emotion took over when she crossed her arms and turned away from him.

"Perhaps, Maester Aemon could examine her and assess the situation," the Lord Commander said with a sigh. He gave the girl a good hard stare, which made her feel more exposed than when she was in the armory with the other men. "Go on. Take her to go see the Maester. If she _is_ with child, she'll have to sent back to Runestone immediately."

Benjen nodded and escorted her out of the tower without a word. As they walked towards the Rookery, he pulled her aside and into the shadows. "Tell me the truth," he said. "Have you ever…"

Ysilla shook her head and wanted to punch him for even suggesting such a thing. Staring into his harsh blue-grey eyes that seemed clouded with anger and fear, she said, "I have not done anything wrong. I'm still in possession of my dignity."

His eyes softened. "That's an interesting word for it," he said, releasing her arm.

"You sound as though I would have insulted you if I _was_ with child."

"It's one thing to protect a maid, an innocent lady… but a travesty to expect us to guard a woman who whores herself out and has no honor." He turned away from her and continued into the Rookery, where the ravens squawked and fluttered in their cages.

Maester Aemon was a shrunken man with a bald head and wrinkling skin. Ysilla watched as he seemed to float from cage to cage, feeding the ravens from a small bucket in his shriveled hands. He turned as soon as Benjen entered and smiled. "Ah, First Ranger," he said, his faint blue eyes staring into the air above them. "And you've brought… a lady. I hadn't heard we were hosting visitors." His voice was soft and kind.

Ysilla stepped into the Rookery beside Benjen as Maester Aemon shuffled forward with his wrinkled hands in the air before him, searching for her. She extended her hand out to him and he immediately clutched her hand within his, feeling her skin with the soft tips of his fingers. "How did you know?" she asked in her low male voice.

He chuckled softly. "It takes quite a bit to fool an old fool," he said. "I didn't recognize your footstep as it was lighter than the average brother of the Watch. And you don't have that distinct odor of sweat and wine, mixed with urine."

"Lord Commander requests that you examine the girl," Benjen said. "She hasn't bled in over a month. And if she's with child…"

"Which, I'm not…" Ysilla interrupted.

"If she's with child, she'll be sent home immediately." Benjen crossed his arms.

Maester Aemon squeezed her hand. "You sound quite hostile towards the girl, Benjen."

"I've been nothing but cordial to the lady," he replied.

"I am doing my best to fit in with the others," she said, glancing at Benjen.

Maester Aemon gave her a kind smile. "I cannot examine her in here," he said softly as he moved towards the door. He grasped Benjen by the arm and held on tightly as the two walked out into the courtyard with Ysilla behind them.

When Maester Aemon was settled comfortably in his chair, he motioned for Ysilla to approach. "Benjen can wait outside," he said aloud.

"As you wish," Benjen said as he closed the door behind him.

Ysilla breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the door close. Her eyes looked down at the wrinkled old man, who looked so frail and helpless.

"You're torn, I sense," he said. "Has this ever happened before? The length of time between your bleeding cycles, I mean."

Ysilla shrugged and realized he couldn't see her. "I can't remember. The last time it happened was when my father said I was to come with my brother to the Wall… a few months ago. And I bled right before we reached Winterfell."

"Ahh, Winterfell… The House Stark," Maester Aemon commented. "And you had not had any relations with anyone?"

"No! I can't! It would be wrong to…" she said, choking back a tear. She swallowed hard and sniffled. "I would have to be married first before allowing a man to…"

Maester Aemon smiled at her. "Then, my dear, I am perplexed about your condition." He thought for a moment before raising a wrinkled finger in the air. "Have you been training with the others?"

She nodded. "Yes. Ser Alliser works us to the bone with our swords and bows."

"It could be possible that all of the hard work is taking its toll on your body. You've come from being a lady of a much respected house to being a brother on the Night's Watch. It is possible that the stress from the change in your environment as well has affected you. Do you experience pain anywhere?"

"Only where the others hit me with their swords," she replied.

Maester Aemon nodded. "I would suggest that a good night's rest is in order. And perhaps a little more urine on your clothes to blend in with the others." He chuckled.

Ysilla laughed.

"Now, then, your infatuation with Benjen…"

She stopped laughing and her mouth dropped open. "I… I don't… you must be mistaken."

"I may be blind, my dear, but I can hear and sense things acutely." He had a wry smile on his lips. "When he's speaking, your heart raced faster and your breathing changed."

"It doesn't mean that I'm infatuated with him," she said. "I could be irritated with him. He can be a very uncooperative man."

Maester Aemon laughed. "My dear, if you are not the very definition of infatuated, I do not know what is."

She shook her head. "You're mistaken, Maester Aemon. But I thank you for your help." She turned to leave but he quickly grasped her hand and held it tightly.

"He's a lonesome soul… and he's never quite been able to allow anyone in. Not his family, nor his brothers here. But when he spoke of you, there was a sliver of light shining through him that even I could see." He squeezed her hand.

"He's sworn an oath," she said. "I can't…"

"There's another… isn't there?" he asked with a grin. "Another boy."

Ysilla slipped her hand out of his. "No, Maester Aemon. There isn't," she lied. Her mind thought of Jon Snow and his beautifully sad grey eyes and his dark brown hair. She lowered her eyes at Maester Aemon, who looked perplexed.

"I sense that there is," he said. "Your heart fluttered just now as you thought of him. Be careful about who you choose to give your heart, dear girl. Love is a dangerous game and sometimes, it can lead to deadly consequences."

Ysilla narrowed her eyes at him. For a moment, her thoughts flashed to the story Benjen told her of his sister and the Targaryen. "I've heard tales, Maester Aemon, of love and loss. I'm sure I'm capable of avoiding such situations. My father will want me to marry a highborn when the time is right."

"Plans can change… things can change… people can change."

That night, Ysilla padded out of the barracks and climbed to the top of the Wall, where Benjen waited for her. She got accustomed to their nightly walks along the battlement in the dark, even if there was nothing to discuss. She enjoyed his company and he was the closest thing to a brother since Robar. Waymar was her brother by blood, but he never seemed to have much interest in her and his duty to protect her. Instead, he spent his evenings drinking in the Common Hall with the others until they poured themselves into bed at an ungodly hour. It was when they finally settled and started snoring that she would disappear to the top of the Wall.

"You certainly had your way today," Benjen said to her, kicking the air with a soft laugh.

"I don't want to discuss it," she replied. Her little stunt may have saved Ronnel Harclay's life, but it certainly killed her social life amongst the new recruits. None of them wanted to associate with her anymore, including Waymar. Now, they all undressed at one end of the Armory, while she stood in a corner at the other end to change.

Benjen slapped her on the back. "It'll get better," he said. "You've just wounded Harclay's pride, that's all."

"If I didn't wound his pride, he'd probably be dead. Stiv was going to kill him with that grip around his throat." Her hand scratched her own throat as she thought of Stiv and the wild eyes. "How'd he ever come here, anyway?"

"Yoren found him in King's Landing, I think," Benjen said. "In their dungeons. Same with Wallen."

She stared out into the darkness of the North. "They're criminals, then," she sighed.

"Not everyone has the privilege of being from an old, honorable house, my lady," he mocked.

She frowned at his jape and lowered her eyes. She thought of Maester Aemon's words to her earlier. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw his smile change to a frown.

"I was only jesting," he said, leaning towards her.

She turned her face away from him. "It wasn't funny," she said in a low voice.

He stood in silence beside her as the winds howled around them, followed by a flurry of snow that left as quickly as it came. Covered in a dusting of white, he shook his hair out with a smile as most of it fell upon Ysilla's head and shoulders. He laughed at her irritated expression.

Ysilla shook the snow out of her hair with her hands. When she tossed her head back, her eyes caught his stare. "What?" she asked.

He shook his head without a word.

"I can't imagine _you_ being at a loss for words," she goaded. But as she laughed at him, he laid a gloved hand against her cheek and pulled face closer to his. Her breath caught in her throat like a knife and she closed her eyes. She shook her head. "I can't," she whispered. "We can't do this." She felt his cold forehead press against hers, followed by a deep sigh.


	7. Chapter 7

The following night, Ysilla climbed to the top of the Wall. She walked briskly for almost a half-mile away from the winch elevator in the darkness, holding her cloak close to her body. Her eyes drooped from being drowsy, but she continued nevertheless, searching for the familiar lump of black that usually leaned against the wall by a dying brazier.

She turned around to look behind her, but she was alone. Her mouth turned into a frown. In the darkness, the ice of the Wall looked like a rough stone, harsh and grey. As she leaned on the wall of the battlement, she stared into the North as she and Benjen had always done. Her gloved hands gripped the edge of the wall and the chill slowly bit her through the leather and fur.

Turning back, she returned to the winch elevator. With her arms around her, she licked her lips and took a step towards the warming shed. She poked her head around the corner to find two men sitting in the shed, dressed in black furs and leathers, huddling by a blazing brazier.

They glanced at her for a moment and snorted. "Is it that time already?" one of the men said with a laugh. "I suppose one good thing about these nightly walks is we know exactly what time it is."

Ysilla lowered her eyes and felt her cheeks blush. She was glad it was night and relatively dark on top of the Wall. Everything up here was black and white, except for the occasional glow of blue with the moon. Her cheeks must have looked barely pink in the firelight. Her eyes glanced over to another brazier and her heart raced.

Benjen stood on the edge of the Wall, staring into the darkness of the North without a word.

"Ben," she said in her low voice.

He didn't turn to look at her. "It's late. You should be sleeping," he said.

"I know," she replied, stepping closer. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked him in a whisper. She watched his face and saw a half-smile appear on his lips as he shook his head.

"You should be in the barracks," he said.

"Walk with me," she requested in a soft voice. "Please."

Benjen lowered his eyes with a heavy sigh. He silently turned and strolled slowly along the center of the battlement, his feet crushing the ice on the surface. Ysilla followed him quietly, keeping a few steps behind him until they were well out of earshot of the others.

"What is it?" he asked, stopping suddenly.

"I hadn't seen you all day… and you weren't waiting where we normally meet," she said. "I just worried."

"There's nothing to worry about," he said. "Is there anything else?" He finally turned to face her and in the darkness, his face looked angular and annoyed. His eyes narrowed at her as she stared into his face.

She shook her head.

"Very well," he said quickly, passing her to return to his post.

"I'm sorry," she said. She turned around to find him standing behind her, his body facing his men and the warming shed in the distance. "Benjen, I'm sorry about last night."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he said. "You were right. It wasn't a good idea. It was just a momentary weakness." He sighed. "I can't look at you without wondering..." He sucked in the cold air and released a steaming cloud from his lips.

Ysilla shook her head. "Benjen," she said as she turned him towards her. Her gloved hand reached up to his cheek and stroked it gently as he closed his eyes. "I wonder sometimes as well… but it's just a dream. We can't let our emotions dictate our choices." She bit her lip when his hand held hers close to his face. Her heart pounded in her chest. "I just don't want to lose my only friend…"

"Is that all?" he asked coldly.

"Yes," she said in a quiet voice.

Watching him walk away from her, she suddenly felt colder than she had ever felt since she'd been at the Wall. Even with the howling winds, when she was with Benjen, she never felt discomfort. The temperature never bothered her until he walked away from her, taking the warmth with him. She held back her tears and returned to the barracks, crawling into the small space between two larger brothers. She didn't sleep, however. It was difficult to lull into a slumber when the other men were snorting, snoring, moaning, and drooling over themselves. She kept her eyes open and thought about Benjen.

_What would have happened if we had kissed?_ She thought deeply about last night, almost convincing herself that she had in fact kissed him. _Is that why he's acting so strangely now? He's keeping his distance from me because of what we did._ She turned onto her side and avoided the little puddle of drool on the mattress, a gift from her neighbor. She used her arm as a pillow and sighed.

The next morning after breakfast, Ysilla went into the Armory and found the thinnest padded armor she could find. The other mail felt way too heavy for her frame and she always felt suffocated by the stench of sweat from the previous wearer. Her fingers felt the worn leather as she pulled it closer to her.

"That's going into the bin, rat," Harclay commented when he saw her examining the armor. "That's not going to protect you."

"Mind your business," she snapped sharply.

"Suit yourself. It's your funeral."

Waymar approached her quietly. "You really should wear something thicker," he whispered.

"Since when do you care?" she replied. "Or are you worried about father blaming you if I get hurt?"

Waymar's face turned red. "I'm just worried that if something happens to you, there won't be enough stewards to go around and they may make me one. Go put on something appropriate."

"Shut up and go away!" she growled at him.

"Fine," Waymar snorted and returned to his station where he fastened his padded armor and equipped his training sword.

Ysilla pulled on the armor and noted how much lighter it was in comparison to the thicker ones that the others were wearing. This mail had holes in it, where the stuffing had drained out, along the breast and the hem. She didn't care. She fastened it tightly against her body and grabbed her sword before rushing outside into the training yard.

Ser Alliser narrowed his eyes at her. "What the hell is that you have on?" his voice was a sharp-edged sword.

"It's my mail, Ser Alliser," she replied.

"No, the others have on the mail. You have on a tunic. Why do you have on a tunic, rat?"

"This is more comfortable, Ser. The heavy padding made it more difficult to move."

The muscle in Ser Alliser's neck twitched and his lips became a straight line on his face. "Luke!"

The skinny blond boy trembled at the sound of his name from Ser Alliser. He raised his sword and stepped forward, looking around for his opponent. The thick padded mail made him look like a stuffed doll. His skinny arms and legs stuck out like sticks, inflexible and stiff.

Ser Alliser pointed at Ysilla. "You get the rat!"

Ysilla stepped forward towards Luke. Her arm raised her sword and her eyes watched his movements. When he charged her, she quickly spun out of the way and smacked him in the butt with the flat of her blade. Luke wailed as he swung his sword at her in short, choppy movements that had no fluidity to them. His mouth was still open when she finally blocked his arm, twisted it and punched him in the face. Luke staggered backwards, half of his face covered with a bloody hand.

Ser Alliser growled, "Royce!"

Waymar took a graceful step towards his sister and raised his sword. He always seemed to hold back his aggression when he faced her, but today, Ysilla noticed her brother looked irritated. His sword sliced the air in a downward cut, grazing her on the arm through her woolen shirt. He blocked her thrust, knocking her sword out of her hand and pushing her to the ground. His next swing missed as she rolled on the ground and picked up her blade. With a wicked smirk, he stalked her, faking a lunge at her, which made her flinch backwards from him.

"We are not at a ball," Ser Alliser's face became pink. "This not a dance lesson!" He waved his hand at the other men. Harclay was the first to enter the dance, swinging his sword at Waymar, catching him in the shoulder blades. The hit wasn't very strong, only shaking Waymar's concentration. "Am I witnessing a group of little girls or men?" Ser Alliser growled.

Stiv shoved Ysilla aside and raised his sword upon Waymar with a maniacal grin on his red face. He swung up and Waymar hopped backwards, avoiding the blade. He swung back down, again missing the knight. He narrowed his eyes at Waymar and lunged forward only to have his blade miss and his arm caught by his opponent. His mouth opened as the knight twisted Stiv's fingers, forcing him to drop the sword to the ground with a painful groan.

Wallen jumped on Waymar's back, holding his sword to the knight's throat. Ysilla watched her brother toss the man over his shoulder and onto his back as Ser Alliser frowned. She stood up with her sword raised. Warily, she took a step towards her brother.

Waymar drew in a deep breath and swung his sword at her, missing her shoulder by a hair as she spun to avoid him. Their swords clashed and produced a grating scratching that irritated her ears. His eyes narrowed at her when she looked up into his face with an expression of determination. His hand flew forward and caught her in the nose, sending her backwards with tears welling in her eyes.

"It's only blood, rat," Ser Alliser said as she stared down at her red hand. "You'll be spilling a lot more of it in the weeks ahead."

She leaned on her sword and spat out blood as she held onto her nose.

"That's sword, not a cane, rat!" Ser Alliser snarled. "Respect it or it'll fail you."

"I'm still bleeding!" she said in a low nasal voice.

"In the battlefield, you'll have more than bloody noses. You all need to stop acting like little princesses and begin acting like men!"

"Perhaps the boy should see the Maester," Benjen Stark said from his position on one of the covered walkways around the yard. His blue-grey eyes stared down at them with a grim expression.

"He'll be fine, Stark," Ser Alliser raised his voice.

"It's not a suggestion, Ser," Benjen replied with a hollow tone to his voice.

Ser Alliser glared up at the First Ranger and turned to Ysilla with a scowl. Without a word, he flicked his head; his subtle signal that Ysilla should leave before he changed his mind. It was very small and almost unnoticeable. His face turned red and his expression boiled into a hostile scowl as he screamed at the rest of them. "Get on!" he shouted and the chorus of sword song began again.

Ysilla glanced up to the covered walkway, where Benjen stood, but he was already gone. She sighed through the pain as she entered Maester Aemon's chambers.

"My dear," the blind man smiled. "How may I be of service to you?"

"I had a little accident in the training yard," she said in her nasal voice as she closed the door behind her.

"Ahh. A little bump in the nose?" he chuckled.

"More like my brother's fist," she groaned. She sat beside Maester Aemon as his wrinkled fingers felt her face and delicately touched her nose.

Aemon smiled. "Brothers can be something wonderful to have, but sometimes they can be more trouble than they're worth."

"Do you have any brothers?" she asked curiously as his fingertips straightened her nose with a crack. She winced from the pain.

"I had several… blood brothers, I am speaking of, not the Brothers of the Night's Watch," he shuffled to small table, where he washed his hands in a basin of water. As he wiped his prune-skinned hands with a towel, he continued, "It's been years since I've remembered them… though I think of them when I can spare the time or the thought."

She watched him as he took a seat and leaned back to think.

"Your nose will be fine, my dear. Go clean your face, while I get the names straight…" he pressed his finger to his lips and began pointing into the air as though he was counting his brothers.

"Thank you," she said as she stood to wash her hands and her face with the pink water in the basin.

"Yes… Daeron, Aerion, Aegon V, and my sisters, Rhae and Daella."

"Aegon…" she repeated. "The King Aegon?"

Aemon smiled at her. "A fanciful historian, eh?" he chuckled. "It's been years, maybe decades, since I've talked about them. Not since Aerys II, have I spoken of my family. Of course, since joining the Watch, I've come to let go of my relations. Still, it is still hard sometimes."

Ysilla wiped her hands and returned to her seat beside Maester Aemon. "I don't want to pry, Maester Aemon. I know it must be difficult knowing that people speak of your family with such disregard."

"They are just words, my dear. Slinging names will not cause any harm to me or my family. But since I have been here so long and have not spoken openly about my family, it is just another shadow that follows me, nothing more." He paused for a moment. "You are troubled, I sense."

"Is it that obvious?" she asked.

"I may be blind, but some things are as clear to me as a warm summer's day. Does this concern Benjen Stark?"

She shrugged and sighed. "I don't know. He's acting so distant and I fear I've done something wrong."

Maester Aemon nodded. "You must understand, my dear, he is the First Ranger of the Night's Watch. He puts his oath first before anything else."

"We almost kissed last night," she blurted in frustration.

"Almost. Trying is not doing. Something stopped you."

"Yes. I did," she said in a low voice. "But I honestly didn't want to. I just couldn't let him break his oath and bring dishonor to his name." She sighed loudly. "Perhaps, I should go home and wait for my father to marry me off."

"I would recommend you let your heart lead you in the right direction," Maester Aemon said. "Letting others dictate your life will bring nothing but sadness and resentment."

Ysilla stared at the wrinkled face on the shrunken man. She wondered what would happen if she let things happen without trying to stop it. She stood up from her seat and squeezed Maester Aemon's hand. Returning to the training yard, she stopped short of Ser Alliser, who was still screaming at the men.

"Well?" Ser Alliser asked with his arms crossed. "Are you waiting for a written invitation?" He pointed at the others before screaming, "Get back in there and practice, rat!"

The day went on as usual with practice, then lunch, followed by more practice. But since she was wearing the lighter, thinner mail, her body wasn't aching as usual and she was able to move more freely during her marksmanship practice. After changing out of the armor and eating dinner, she returned to the barracks, where she was able to get a little bit of sleep before the others returned from drinking in the Common Hall.

When she reached the top of the Wall, it had begun to snow lightly, sending all of the men into the warming shed by their posts. She walked the half-mile along the battlement away from the winch elevator, hoping to see Benjen in his usual spot. A frown fell upon her lips when she found the brazier blazing, but no Benjen. She hung her head and leaned against the ice. Her lashes decorated by the light snowflakes that fell from the sky. With a sigh, she stared out to the North and wished she hadn't stopped him the other night.

"I'm taking you to the godswood tomorrow," Benjen's voice startled her.

She turned her head to see him standing a few feet from her. "Godswood?" she asked. "Why?"

"You'll be taking your oath soon with the others. I thought you'd want to pray to the Old Gods that the wildlings attack or something so you won't have to." He smirked.

"I thought you were upset with me," she said.

"I'm more upset with myself," he muttered as he joined her by the wall of ice and the brazier. "I shouldn't have… It's against my oath. And I put you in a difficult position."

"So you didn't want to kiss me…?" she asked, staring into his face.

He didn't look at her, but shook his head.

"I don't believe you," she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Now, you're acting like you wanted me to kiss you!" He finally turned his face towards her. The brazier lit his skin with a glowing bronze color that made him look like he was from across the Narrow Sea. His blue-grey eyes were aflame as he took a step towards her.

"You wouldn't have anyway, right? Even if I wanted you to?" She shook her head in disbelief. "You're unbelievable, Benjen Stark!" She turned on her heels and walked away from him, further along the battlement and away from the winch elevator. Her anger drove her as she stomped in the snow, shuffling the ice beneath her feet until she felt better. She finally stopped and took a deep breath as she hid her tears with her gloved hands. Choking back a sob, she leaned on the ice and held herself with her arms, trying to retain her body heat. She felt cold again.

She wasn't sure how long she stood alone before she felt his arms around her. She just knew that her feet and her hands felt the biting cold and she wanted to go back into the barracks before she froze to death. The warmth from his arms and his body was a welcome comfort.

He turned her to face him and gazed into her grey eyes. "Tell me what you want," he said in a low whisper. He was impatient and didn't wait for her answer before pulling her into his arms to hold her tightly.

She felt his heart racing beneath the leathers and wool as she pressed her ear against his chest and buried herself into his arms. She didn't have an answer for him. She didn't want to choose. Instead, she remained silent and wrapped her arms around his chest and sighed.


	8. Chapter 8

_How can I choose between two men, who are not suitable for me?_ Ysilla stared up at the night sky as she walked towards the winch elevator. Dark except for the small pinpricks on the black canvas, she saw the stars wink at her as she entered the cage and rode up the side of the Wall. It had been months since she'd first ridden the winch elevator up the wall of ice to the top. Now, it turned into a routine.

She sighed heavily as she took her walk along the battlement in the darkness, passing dying braziers until she had walked to the one blazing brightly. Her lips curled into a smile when she saw his face beyond the flames and she hastened her pace towards him.

Benjen looked tired when he gave her a grin. His blue-grey eyes were lined and his face looked even thinner than when she had first met him. He clutched a piece of parchment in his gloved hands when she wrapped her arms around him for a tight embrace.

"What is it?" she asked.

He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but no words came forth.

Ysilla's face changed from a smile into a concerned frown. "What is that?" she reached for the paper in his hands, but he evaded her attempts and hid it from her. "Benjen Stark!" she pouted.

He shook his head and conceded. His hand passed her the slip of paper as he lowered his eyes.

Ysilla turned towards the flames to read the fine print. "Jon Arryn…" she gasped. "He… he can't be!"

"I'm sorry, Ysilla," he said, placing his arms around her shoulders. His frosty cheek found the back of her head as his arms drew her in closer.

She shook her head. "It must be a mistake! He can't be dead!" Turning to face him, her face pressed firmly against his chest as her body shook with many sobs. "What does this mean?" Her tear-streaked face looked up at him.

"It means the King will be looking for a new Hand," Benjen said with a sigh.

Ysilla shook her head. "I don't understand. He was healthy… he was fine!"

Benjen stroked her hair and held her tightly. "I may have to go to Winterfell," he whispered.

"When?" she asked.

"Soon…" he replied. "You will be coming with me," he told her and her face softened.

"Is it a good idea?" she asked. She bit her lip at the thought of Jon Snow.

"Why wouldn't it be? It'd be good for us to get away from the Wall for a moment… however minute it may be." He lifted her chin with a gloved finger. "You said you liked Winterfell."

"I do," she replied. "You family was most kind to me… But… what about Waymar? I can't leave him!"

Benjen cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you not telling me, Ysilla?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I am just concerned for my brother."

"Lord Commander was talking about giving him his own command to track a band of wildlings," Benjen said. "He won't have time to miss you. He'll be much too busy."

Ysilla nodded. "Very well," she said, running out of plausible excuses.

She watched as her brother strode through the tunnel in the Wall with Gared and Will in tow. Her eyes followed him as far as they could until he disappeared into the depths of the ice. She wanted to call out to him and tell him to be careful. She wanted to follow him through the tunnel and rush to the godswood to pray for his safe return. She did neither. Instead, she stood silently beside Benjen and balled her hands into fists.

"He'll be fine," Benjen said. "They're just wildlings. He'll be back." He placed a hand on her shoulder before turning away to walk towards the Lord Commander's Tower.

"Wildlings…" she repeated. "Just wildlings. Nothing else." She wasn't convinced, however. She followed Benjen and stopped him on the stairs. "What about the wight?" she asked. "That thing we saw by the godswood."

Benjen sighed. "It was just a horrible coincidence," he told her.

"You really don't believe that," she said, climbing the steps after him. "You saw what I saw. You protected me from that thing. You know they're coming!"

He turned around on the stairs and took one step down, standing a foot above her. "That thing was just…"

"What? You said it was a wight… You can't say it wasn't now!" she said, her eyes filling with tears. "I fear for my brother."

"I know you do. But he is prepared. Ser Alliser said he's a good ranger. And I wouldn't let him go out if I didn't think he was ready. Trust me, Ysilla," Benjen said. "Everything will be fine. He will return shortly…" He slid a gloved hand down her arm and squeezed her hand. "Do you trust me?"

Ysilla nodded.

"Good," he turned and continued up the steps.

Ysilla stood atop the Wall every night for two weeks. She stared off into the North and hoped that her brother would return safely. The winds seemed colder without Waymar, even when Benjen kept her warm with his arms.

"I know you worry," he whispered in her ear.

She nodded.

"Everything will be fine," he said as a wispy cloud escaped his lips. His arms tightened around her waist as she leaned her head back against his chest.

She sighed deeply.

"We will set off for Winterfell in the morning," his breath caressed her ear.

She nodded. "I know," she replied.

He turned her around and lifted her chin up to gaze into her grey eyes. "You will feel better once we are away from this place," he said, leaning closer.

Ysilla closed her eyes. She waited for him to kiss her. Her lips puckered slightly and she tipped her head. She held her breath, expecting the warmth of his mouth on hers. After a few moments, her lips turned into a frown, and she felt his lips on her forehead. She opened her eyes and furrowed her brows. With a deep sigh, she took a step back from him.

"I don't want to disappoint you," he murmured against her forehead.

"Disappoint me?"

"I'm sure you're expecting some grand gesture of my affection for you. But, I… I'm not… I'm not that man. I can only give you my promise… my promise that I will keep you safe until you have to go." His face contorted into a frustrated expression. His eyes rolled and his face turned pink. He grasped her hand tightly and held it against his chest. "I promise that you will be safe."

She nodded. "I appreciate it." She lowered her eyes and turned to look out to the North.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.

In the distance, she heard the men cry out. "Horses!" Glancing down over the edge, she didn't see anything except the darkness and the grey color of the ice beneath her. "Horses?" she turned to Benjen, who smiled at her.

"See?" he said to her.

Ysilla rushed to the winch elevator as fast as her legs could move. Benjen followed her but remained on the top of the Wall to return to his post. Tears filled her eyes as she slowly descended the Wall. _He's home! He's home! Waymar is back! _Her hands clasped over her mouth as her emotions overtook her. _He's safe!_ She exited the cage and ran down the steps to the courtyard where the other men gathered around the horses.

She searched the faces for Waymar. He wasn't hard to spot. He was the best-dressed ranger in the lot with his black sable cloak. But her smile turned into a frown when she didn't find him. "Where's Waymar?" she asked Harclay, who turned to return to the barracks.

"He's not here. He's still ranging!" he replied.

"But there were horses," she said.

"They didn't have any riders," Luke said, following Harclay.

"Are they strays? Or maybe the wildlings lost their horses." she asked.

"No. These are ours," another ranger said, leading the horses to the stables. There were two of them. As they walked by, Ysilla noted that neither was Waymar's horse.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "But, where are the riders?" she asked.

Ser Alliser grunted. "The riders may have not tied their horses properly and they managed to get away." He crossed his arms. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Where did you come from, rat?"

"I was taking a walk," she replied.

Ser Alliser watched her as she returned to the barracks. She was sure he suspected something. But since he didn't say anything, she felt her secret was still safe.

The next morning, she rode away from the Wall, following Benjen along the Kingsroad. She glanced back over her shoulder at Castle Black and the Wall behind it. She didn't have the same feelings as when she left Winterfell. There was no sadness or longing. She was glad to be leaving if only for a week. They rode hard and fast along the Kingsroad, stopping only once by Long Lake to rest their horses.

She also took the opportunity to bathe at Long Lake, just as the sun set and the sky turned purple and orange. She was careful to make sure Benjen didn't see her undress, using the full limbs of trees to block his view and to hang her clothes. In the moonlight, the water sparkled like a blanket of stars were drifting on the surface.

"Are you done?" he asked as she sunk into the water. "The fire's made and I'd like to wash up, as well." The moon stood behind him, making him a dark shadow on the water's edge.

"I'll be out when I'm done," she said, wiping her arms down with the water.

"You'd better hurry," he said. "If you don't hurry, I'll be coming in there with you."

"You wouldn't dare!" she snapped.

Benjen's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. "Are you daring me, now?" He unclasped his cloak and let it drop to the ground. He pulled off his boots and his gloves, next.

"Stop it!" she said, drifting further away from him. She couldn't see him except for his silhouette, but she knew he had no trouble seeing every inch of her. She dove under the surface of the water and swam as far away as she could. When she resurfaced to catch her breath, she heard a loud splash. "Benjen Stark! You better not be in this water right now!"

She hung onto the water's edge, looking out on the surface of the water for his head. She listened for his splashing, but he was as quiet as a mouse. Moving over towards her clothes, she felt a hand on her leg and she squealed. "What are you doing?" she asked as his face rose out of the water.

"I need to get clean as well, my lady," he replied.

"It's not funny!" she said, splashing him in the face with the water. She scrambled out of the lake and rushed behind the trees to pull on her clothes.

"You're going to be cold!" he said from the water's edge. "You should sit by the fire and dry off before putting your clothes back on."

"Are you my mother now?" she asked.

"I won't look," he told her. "Just put your cloak on and sit by the fire." He turned around and swam away.

Ysilla draped her cloak over her shoulders and tiptoed to the fire, sitting on a rock with her legs folded beneath her. She pulled her cape tightly around her when she heard the waters splashing and his footsteps approach. "It's cold," she complained, shivering by the fire as Benjen threw his cloak around his body and sat beside her. She huddled close to him and rested her head on his chest. His arm fell over her shoulders and held her close.

The next day, they continued their ride down the Kingsroad. The sun was setting again when they finally reached Winterfell. As they road into the courtyard, they saw the King's bannermen standing alongside the Starks' guards. Benjen dismounted and strode into the feasting hall without a word, but his face turned serious when he glanced back at Ysilla.

She wanted to follow him but she knew it wouldn't be a wise move. Instead, she sat in the practice yard and thought about her brother.

"Did the Brothers of the Night's Watch reject you?" a familiar voice asked.

Ysilla's face brightened when she saw Jon Snow. She shook her head. "I'm a brother, apparently," she replied as he approached.

"Have they been treating you well?"

She nodded. "As well as they can," she replied.

"Well, then… let's see what they taught you," he said, drawing his sword.

Ysilla stood and obliged. She removed her cloak and raised her sword towards him. With a gleam in her eye, she lunged forward and he jumped back, blocking her thrust with his blade. She spun and swung her sword at him. Again, blocked.

"Not bad," he replied, taking a step to the side. His blade swung down and she swiftly moved. He twisted and sent the edge of his sword across, missing her nose by an inch. He sent a hard swing down, only to be blocked by her sword. As their blades crossed, he pushed her into a dark corner. The scraping of the metal irritated her ears, but she quickly forgot about the sound when his lips found hers.


	9. Chapter 9

His lips were warm, sweet, and all too unexpected. Finally, she opened her eyes to find his face so close that she felt the whiskers on his chin. She froze. When he stepped back and dropped his sword to his side, her eyes narrowed at the smug smile on his face. She sheathed her sword and took a step towards him.

"Did you want another?" he asked with a laugh.

Within a split second, her fist flew towards his face and made contact with his mouth, forcing his teeth to split his lip as he staggered backwards. She shook out her hand from the sudden sting in her knuckles, but she felt satisfied with the outcome.

"What was that for?" he asked, tenderly touching his lip with his fingers.

"It was just an answer to your question on whether I wanted another," she replied. "In other words, no, I do not!" She turned and walked away, picking up her cloak and draping it quickly over her shoulders. She heard laughter coming from the shadows, which prompted her hand to reach for her sword. Her eyes narrowed when a tiny man waddled forward on bowlegs.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"What do you want?" she asked as he took a good look at her.

"A Brother of the Night's Watch I see," he said. "I should like to see the Wall some day."

"Are you planning on taking the Black?" Jon Snow asked from behind her.

"I should say not!" He gave a grin at Jon. "But... if the Night's Watch has turned to also accept women, then perhaps, I may be persuaded to change my mind some day."

"There are no women on the Wall," she said in her low voice.

The dwarf gave her a kind smile and shook his head. "The ranger was here only moments ago… Does he know?"

"There's nothing to know," she said to him.

"I disagree. There's always something to know."

Her feet carried her through the courtyard and around the kennels to the entrance of the godswood. She padded through the trees until she reached the small lake and the weirwood with its red leaves. Her eyes widened when she saw a figure sitting by the tree, dressed in black with his head hung. "Benjen?"

He turned his face to look up at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same… I thought you were in the hall with your brother."

"I was… and I came out to look for you," he said. "You were busy." He turned his face away from her and stared at the water and the reflection on the glassy surface.

"Busy?" she asked.

"You were doing some sword fighting," he said without looking at her. "At least, that's what I think it was…"

"I was just sparring with Jon," she said, sitting beside him.

He nodded. "I saw," he replied.

"Benjen," Ysilla started, but she soon closed her mouth. "Jon..."

"He's a good young man," he replied. "He could give you a better life than I ever could. The Watch is all I have and all I know now."

Ysilla sat beside him and leaned against his shoulder. "I don't need a young man, who's so impetuous that he gets a punch in the face for kissing me," she muttered.

Benjen turned his head towards her with a furrowed brow. "You punched him?"

"I know it's not very ladylike," she said. "But yes, I punched him." She saw the laughter in his blue-grey eyes as he processed her words. "The truth of the matter was… he wasn't you."

"I can't give you what you want, Ysilla," he said, turning the rest of his body towards her. His gloved hands grasped hers and squeezed them tightly. "I can't be a husband, nor can I be a father. I can't hold titles or lands… "

"Do you think that's all I care about?" she asked him. "You're more than those things, Ben. You're comforting and caring… I might even add that you're devoted even if you've been sullen lately." Her eyes fell to their pile of hands, stacked and intertwined so well she couldn't tell which fingers belonged to her. "If you were not in the Night's Watch… "

"If I had not taken the Black, would I want you for myself?" he stared into her face.

She nodded. "Would you have me?" she asked.

His mouth widened into a smile and he shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know what it would prove to know if I would or would not. The fact of the matter is, I can't." he said, releasing her hands with a shake of his head.

She rose to her feet and towered over him with a frown. Her hand grazed the bark of the weirwood beside her as she steadied herself, though a part of her shook with anger. She sighed and shook her head when Benjen rose to his feet. "What if I didn't care?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "The choice is not yours."

"My heart doesn't care if you're in the Night's Watch. All it knows is the warmth and strength of your arms and the kindness in your eyes," she barely took a step forward when her feet jellied beneath her and she stumbled like a toddler.

Benjen stifled a laugh and extended a hand to her, which she slapped away in anger. He shook his head. "I just wanted to help you up," he said, grasping her by the arm. Tugging her to her feet, his free hand caught her by the waist.

"Ben," she couldn't look into his eyes. "You can't have it both ways. You can't hold me close to you and then push me away when you become frightened of your emotions."

"You never told me what you want," he replied, positioning his face so close to hers that she felt the tips of his whiskers breathe across her lips.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, even though the lump in her throat seemed to have other plans. With a short gasp, she whispered, "I want you." As her lips released the last word, she lightly brushed her mouth against his and felt his heated breath against her skin.


End file.
